


Nature vs Nurture

by emma_meerkat



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, teaching au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_meerkat/pseuds/emma_meerkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has been teaching three years, before he has the weirdest teacher-parent conference ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ubikinon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubikinon/gifts).



Grantaire had passed his teaching degree three years ago, and he the three years of school placement during it had given him many years of Parents Evening practice, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of hosting another one. He was fucking terrified. It also didn't help that Feuilly, that ginger bastard, was an oasis of calm beside him, radiating smugness across his classroom.

 

“You know I hate you.” He grumbled, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

 

“No you don't.” Feuilly shuffled the papers on their desk, waiting for parents to arrive. “If you hated me, I wouldn't be here. I know what happened to your last teaching assistant. And what you did to get her to leave.”

 

Grantaire shot Feuilly a heated look. “Nothing you can prove.”

 

“So she happened to lose three children on a school trip, you miraculously located not ten minutes later?”

 

“Can I help if the kids wanted to look at the dinosaurs?” Grantaire teased, but he was smiling. “She was a judgmental bitch though, didn't agree with my ‘lifestyle’ and all that shit. I mean I'm a fucking delight. And I have a cat. Not a lot of lifestyle there to mock.”

 

“You mean other than the fact you’re the saltiest bisexual man I know?”

 

“You’ve met ‘Parnasse right?” Grantaire checked his watch, their first parent is already late. “I’m lightly salted compared to him.”

 

“’Taire, last time you took me out I watched you reduce a guy to tears because he wouldn’t stop hitting on Eponine when she’d clearly told him to back the fuck off.” Feuilly shook his head remembering the night.

 

“And then Eponine slapped me, because she didn’t need a man to fight her battles, so there is that.” Grantaire reminded him, as their first parent walked through the door looking frazzled, and apologising profusely for them being late. Grantaire smiled, gesturing to the seat across from him and Feuilly. “No problem, Feuilly and I were discussing unimportant stuff, and we usually have at least one no show, so. Anyway I’m Grantaire, but the children know me as Mr R, and this is Feuilly my teaching assistant. The kids call him Mr F. How can we help you?”

 

They made it through the rest of parents evening with only mild complaining about his teaching methods, one comment about his age, and a few weird looks from parents when he introduced himself and Feuilly. It was always fun to watch the single parents flirt with Feuilly, as everyone who ever hear the ginger man speak they instantly fell more than a little bit in love with him. But as always, he let them down gently, ever the professional. The mother of the child who Feuilly helped bring on his grade in English from a D to a solid B, brought them both wine and hugged him for way too long to be appropriate. He made a mental note to tease him about it later.

 

Grantaire loved talking about how each child had developed over the course of the year and how a once a quiet shy little mouse can be transformed into a roaring lion, if given the right nurturing, especially between the dream team of himself and Feuilly. And it disheartened him when the parents came in, and couldn’t see how amazing their child was, but would rather focus on the tests scores and not how their child excelled in the other things not measured by letters or numbers. Thankfully most of the parents in their class weren’t like that, just one or two.

 

Before either Grantaire and Feuilly knew it, the night was closing in on their last appointment of the night, Melody’s parents. Grantaire knew that she had two fathers, Gabriel Enjolras and Tomas Bahorel, and by the reputation they have with the rest of the staff in the school, they were a force to be reckoned with. They both worked in law, Bahorel worked in family practise, and Enjolras specialised in mostly corporate law, a formidable parenting team by any standard.

 

What the pair weren’t prepared for was the sight of the two men walking into the room together, because that was something both Grantaire and Feuilly needed to commit to memory.  The two men cut quite a figure in the small classroom, the tall blonde with bright blue eyes dressed in a sharp grey suit, and a taller still tanned man with shoulder length hair tied up

 

Grantaire recognised the bright eyes of Melody in who he assumed was Bahorel, the broader of the two gentlemen with a warm smile. “Hi, I assume you two are Melody’s fathers?” he said as the two sat down in the spare seats opposite himself and Feuilly. “I’m Sebastian Grantaire, the children call me Mr R, and I usually go by Grantaire.”

 

“I’m Mathieu Feuilly.” Feuilly introduced himself, leaning across the desk to shake both their hands. “I usually go by my surname too. The children call me Mr F, as Feuilly can be a bit of a mouthful.”

 

“I bet it could be.” Bahorel quipped, before he could stop himself, earning a punch in the leg from Enjolras. “Sorry that was unprofessional.”

 

“What Bahorel meant to say,” Enjolras began, shooting Bahorel a pointed look. “Is that we’re glad you extended your hours for us to meet with you. Melody is very fond of the two of you, and speaks very highly of Mr R and Mr F. Its nice to finally put faces to the names, did you really dress up like an emperor for the week?”

 

Grantaire laughed, nodding his head. “It’s the third year that Feuilly and I have done it. Its became a classroom favourite. Feuilly always usurps me by the end of the week anyway. He gets to be emperor Feuilly for the whole school.”

 

“It is the highlight of my school year obviously.” Feuilly deadpanned, smiling at Bahorel. “I get to boss you around for twenty-four hours, and you can’t do anything about it. Especially since it’s the kids that cause the revolution. Overthrow the tyranny of your rule, R. Lord knows Gingers make better rulers.”

 

Grantaire raised his eyebrows at Feuilly’s words, that was the most he’d spoken unless directly addressed all evening. Weird. “If you say so, Feu.” He said, turning his attention to Enjolras opposite him. “We’re getting off of topic anyway, we all know that Feuilly is a brilliant emperor, but what we don’t know is what you would like to discuss at parents evening tonight. Melody is an excellent student, her grades are impressive and she’s in the top reading group of the class, what would you like to discuss?”

 

“Like you said, Melody is an excellent student.” Bahorel beamed at Grantaire. “I wanted to know if you’ve got anything bad to say about my little girl. We all know she’s an excellent student, I want to know when she’s not excellent. You’ve got to have some dirt on her Grantaire, the girl is too well behaved to be mine sometimes. I may be her Father, but she’s so much like Enjolras its scary at times.” Enjolras shoots Bahorel an irritated glare, which both Grantaire and Feuilly have seen too many times in their small classroom.

 

“I see what you mean.” Grantaire chuckled, shaking his head a little. “She breaks out that look more often than not, especially when she can’t get her merry bunch of friends to listen to her.

 

“That sounds so familiar Enj.” Bahorel teased, elbowing Enjolras in the side.

 

“She was also an advocate for my emperor-ship before all the other children.” Feuilly interjected, earning another smile from Bahorel. “Shouldn’t Mr F be in charge? Mr R can’t always be in charge, can he?”

 

“Tell that to him.” Bahorel chuckled, as Enjolras shot him another glare. “Nature vs Nurture is one thing that has always fascinated me. So Melody is a bit of a bossy boots….”

 

“The girl knows what she wants.” Enjolras offered, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I think the world needs more strong-willed women in the world. I don’t see why it should be a problem B.”

 

“Try telling your seven-year-old that when she’s refusing to go to bed.”

 

Grantaire and Feuilly exchanged an awkward look. It wasn’t the first time parents had started bickering in their classroom that evening. “Anyway…”

 

Enjolras seemed to remember his surroundings and blushed at Grantaire’s interruption. “I do apologise, but Nature vs Nurture is always a heated topic at home. I’m glad Melody is excelling at school. Being bossy is always a trait that women are pulled up against especially in later life, boys are only ever called ambitious. We’ve already taken up enough of your time this evening.” He glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s almost seven, ‘Rel. We best get back, you know Courf can’t get Mel’ to go to bed on time, the man is a sucker for her big brown eyes.”

 

“You are too!” Bahorel teased gathering his things together and holding out his hand to shake Grantaire’s. “Thank you for extending your office hours Mr Grantaire.”

 

“Call me R for the love of god.”

 

“Sorry R.” Bahorel grinned at him, before turning his attention to Feuilly. “And thanks Feuilly, my daughter really speaks highly of you. And to be honest I’ve been dying to meet you, especially from the way she described you.” He looked Feuilly up and down again, throwing him a wink. “I can see she and I have very similar taste in men, that may be a problem when she gets older…”

 

“’Rel!” Enjolras encouraged, noting Feuilly’s blush. “Can you reign it in a little so we can get home please?”

 

“Yes Dear!” Bahorel chirped, as he followed Enjolras out of the door leaving a very confused teacher and teaching assistant in their wake.

 

Grantaire and Feuilly shared a confused look, before Grantaire got up to close the door. “That was the weirdest parent-teacher meeting I’ve ever had.” Grantaire laughed, watching Feuilly trying to decipher what he had just experienced. “I mean I’ve met beautiful people before, but sweet jesus. Mr Enjolras… Why are the good ones always taken?”

 

“At least you weren’t hit on by a married man!” Feuilly returned, his face still a little pink from Bahorel’s attention. “I mean I wasn’t being stupid, he was hitting on me right?”

 

Grantaire nodded, sitting down beside Feuilly once again. “Dude you were about five minutes away from him offering to blow you in the teachers lounge, and inviting Enjolras and I to watch… He’s totally your type though.”

 

“Dude?”

 

“Trying something new out.”

 

Feuilly rolled his eyes at his friend and colleague. “He’s totally my type though, you’re right. Urgh.”

 

“Tragically taken.” Grantaire sighed, gathering his things together. “C’mon Feu. Let’s go home, I’ve got wine, and ice cream. Lets get a bit drunk and watch Drag Race.”

 

“You only want to watch Drag Race to critique the outfits and shout mean things at the tv.”

 

“And?”

 

“I don’t even know why we’re friends.” Feuilly shook his head and threw his bag on his shoulder. “I don’t even like you.”

 

“You love me, that’s a fucking lie.” Grantaire returned with a smug grin. “And my flat was nicer than yours so you live with me, and my cats. Because you love us all Feu.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 


	2. 'Living-in-Sin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2!

A heated whisper of “We’re talking when we get home.” From Enjolras was the only words spoken between the two men before they arrived home to a frazzled Courfeyrac and a small ball of energy playing cards with Combeferre at the kitchen table. At spotting Enjolras and Bahorel, she slapped down her cards and did a running leap into Bahorel’s waiting arms. “Daddy!” she shouted. “You’re home!”

 

Enjolras took Bahorel’s bags before he dropped his laptop on the floor again, pressing a quick kiss to Melody’s head. “Daddy and I were meeting with Mr R and Mr F.” Enjolras said, as Bahorel spun her around in his arms. “Have you been good for Uncle Courf?” he looked up to see Combeferre tidy up the cards at the table. “And Uncle Ferre too by the looks of it?”

 

Melody nodded, as she struggled down from Bahorel’s arms. “Uncle Courf made dinosaurs for my dinner, but he said he was lonely so he made me ring Uncle Ferre because he said he’d want dinosaurs for his dinner too. Then Uncle Courf said he needed a nap, so Uncle Ferre said he’d teach me how to play cards.”

 

“Cards?” Bahorel laughed, as Combeferre looked sheepishly at him. “I think she may be a little young for counting cards Ferre.”

 

“We’re playing go fish, dick.” Combeferre stuck his tongue out at Bahorel in a childish manner. “And you two are back later than you said. It’s almost seven thirty.”

 

Enjolras moved into the living room, sitting beside Courfeyrac who still hadn’t moved since they came through the door. “We’d have been here sooner, but ‘Rel decided he’d rather flirt with Melody’s TA. In the middle of our meeting.”

 

This got Courfeyrac’s attention. “Poor Bahorel isn’t getting it at home, so he has to hit on poor unsuspecting strangers.” Courfeyrac teased, patting Enjolras’ knee as he moved up off of the sofa. “You need to take better care of your man Enjy. He’s clearly not getting satisfied.”

 

Bahorel sighed dramatically and draped himself over the other chair causing Melody to giggle. “Woe is me.” He declared. “I have to seek my love elsewhere, considering my own husband doesn’t love me. And don’t think I didn’t see you undressing Grantaire with your eyes.”

 

“Come on Mel! Bed Time” Combeferre interrupted, picking up the little girl around her waist and into his arms. “Let’s let the children talk, and we can go and read Harry Potter before bed. Your daddy and papa are being stupid and I think I need some grown up company.”

 

Enjolras gave Combeferre a grateful look as Combeferre and Melody bounced up the stairs together. He waited until they were safely out of sight before launching cushions at both Bahorel and Courfeyrac who both laughed at him. “I’m not married to Bahorel, and I don’t know why people keep assuming that. I don’t wear a ring and Bahorel really is not my type.”

 

“Yeah I’m not dark haired, hairy and sarcastic.” Bahorel interrupted.

 

“You’re all three of those things!” Courfeyrac shot back.

 

“But my name isn’t Grantaire.” Bahorel said with a shit-eating grin. “And you didn’t see the way he looked at him. Pure lust.”

 

“I hate you both so much.” Enjolras cursed, knowing he would never have control of the conversation. “And Courf, you’re one to talk we both know you’re king of pining, so shut your mouth. Grantaire is a beautiful man, and probably would be my type. If it wasn’t unethical to date my pseudo-daughters teacher. And I’m pretty sure the entire school thinks we’re together ‘Rel.”

 

Bahorel rolled his eyes as he sat up. “One, we both know Melody is every bit your daughter as well as mine, not in a legal sense I grant you. But you saw me sign the document saying that god forbid if anything happens to me, there is nobody I’d rather raise my daughter. Well except Combeferre, but she wouldn’t go anywhere without you.” Enjolras couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. “And second of all. Why are you so offended by people thinking you and I are a couple?” he teased. “I’m a fucking catch, thank you very much.”

 

“But if he wants to get with Mel’s teacher, I think that could be a problem ‘Rel.” Courfeyrac pointed out, throwing the cushion Enjolras through at him at Bahorel. “And I guess that’s a problem if you want to do the nasty with her TA too. You two are screwed.”

 

“Believe me Courf if I was getting screwed, hitting on the hot ginger teacher would be the least of my worries.”  Bahorel said with a shake of his head. “But like fuck me, he was so pretty. And…” the rest of his words were cut off by a frustrated groan. “You know what I mean though? Bloody gingers have always been my weakness.”

 

Courfeyrac jumped up from his place beside Enjolras to wrap his arm around Bahorel and offer his sympathies. “You poor poor horny man.”

 

What the trio hadn’t noticed in their conversation was Combeferre’s return. “As much as I love your conversation about how Bahorel wants to get with ‘The hot ginger TA’” Combeferre began, causing the three of them to jump suddenly. “There’s a little lady who wants to say good night to you both, but I told her she had to stay in bed. So you two should go up, and Courf and I will tidy up downstairs.”

 

“Yes Dad!” Bahorel and Enjolras chorused, before dutifully going upstairs to wish Melody goodnight.

 

Courfeyrac made grabby hands and Combeferre, and pulled his boyfriend towards him. “Missed you.” He hummed, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss.

 

“I was literally upstairs for ten minutes Courf.” Combeferre teased, pulling Courfeyrac up and then switching their positions so Courfeyrac was sat on his lap. “Couldn’t you have survived ten minutes without me?”

 

“Obviously not.” Courfeyrac assured him, pressing his lips to Combeferre’s cheek now. “I mean, how can I not miss you. I’ve seen women and men fall in love with you when you’re looking after their kids as their pediatrician, it’s only natural that seeing you with Mel makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.  I love when you get all dad like.”

 

“You said you didn’t want kids for a few years yet Courf.” Combeferre reminded him, nuzzling into his boyfriends neck. “Especially when you saw how much work Melody used to be.”

 

“Yes, but then we were talking about marriage, and now I want to the whole family package.” Courfeyrac squirmed a little in Combeferre’s lap. “I mean I can still wait, but I’m letting you know it’s on the table. I want kids with you.”

 

“Oi Lovebirds!” Bahorel barked, causing Courfeyrac to flip him off. “Princess wanted Enj to read her her story tonight, so I’ve been banished back downstairs to make sure you two don’t do things on out sofa again. I’ve seen too much of Courfeyrac’s backside for it just to be accidental now. I will resort to a spray bottle to keep you apart if I have to.”

 

Combeferre shook his head, keeping Courfeyrac on his lap as his boyfriend made to get up. “He’d see it as an incentive.” He said, as Bahorel sniggered opposite them. “We were talking about kids if you must know, dick. Mel could have a little cousin to look after, eventually.” Courfeyrac took this as an invitation to kiss Combeferre soundly on the mouth with a little more tongue than strictly necessary.

 

Bahorel groaned, as Combeferre and Courfeyrac started to take their kiss further. “I fucking hate you both.”

 

“You’re only jealous.” Courfeyrac insisted, pressing a kiss to Combeferre’s cheek. “You’re totally jealous of our love. Isn’t he babe?”

 

“I’m sickened by it.” Bahorel corrected, silently praying for Enjolras to come downstairs to save him from the awkward torture of dealing with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “But I really do want something like that. I need your help Courfeyrac, how do I hit on the sexy ginger man who thinks I’m married to Enjolras? Help me.”

 

Courfeyrac pushed himself up from Combeferre’s embrace and moved to sit beside Bahorel on the sofa. He knew that his fried was struggling with being single for so long, especially since Melody was getting older, and she had a stable life with both Bahorel and Enjolras to look after her. And yet, Enjolras has always been fine with being perpetually single, Bahorel on the other hand is not. Courfeyrac had known that Bahorel had tried dating a few years ago, when Melody first started school, but a lot of the people he dated were always apprehensive about dating a ‘single dad’, and those who weren’t were very intimidated by Enjolras. Courfeyrac knew Bahorel was lonely, he made that clear enough when he got too drunk on strawberry daiquiris at Combeferre’s birthday.

 

“I’ll help you get your man Baz.” Courfeyrac promised, wrapping his arms around Bahorel’s neck. “Maybe we can work on setting Enjolras up with Grantaire too. That’ll give Melody four men in her life.”

 

“That sounds like an article from those trashy magazines that you’re so fond of Courf. ‘My daughter has four Dads’” Combeferre quipped with a smile. “Besides I don’t think Enjolras will like you setting him up with anyone. You know he’s rejected the last three guys you set him up with. And that was even before he got to mention ‘living-in-sin’ with Bahorel, as you’re so fond of referring to it as.”

 

“Challenge accepted!” Courfeyrac declared, slapping Bahorel’s thigh. “I love playing cupid.”

 

“You love playing pain-in-the-ass.” Combeferre corrected, rolling his eyes at his boyfriend. “I’m staying out of this whole thing. Just so you know.”

 

Courfeyrac shrugged, turning his attention back to Bahorel, and ignoring his boyfriend’s skepticism “Okay, Baz. Lets make a plan. Operation ‘win the ginger’ is a go.”


	3. Pure Swedish Torture (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel stretched his arms above his head until he heard his back click, mornings were always hard on him, having never been a morning person in his life, but living with a seven-year-old, and Enjolras, had given him the motivation to be more of a morning person. Even if he thought getting up before ten on a Saturday should still be made illegal.

Bahorel stretched his arms above his head until he heard his back click, mornings were always hard on him, having never been a morning person in his life, but living with a seven-year-old, and Enjolras, had given him the motivation to be more of a morning person. Even if he thought getting up before ten on a Saturday should still be made illegal.

 

What he hadn’t anticipated was Enjolras’ sudden need to spend their Saturday traipsing around Ikea because he needed yet another bookcase, and a new wok since in cleaning their last Courfeyrac had broken the handle. Melody on the other hand, was extremely enthusiastic about going to Ikea, between the giant stuffed animals and the ice cream, it was one of her favourite places to go. And yet, no amount of Swedish Meatballs, could make Bahorel enthusiastic about what was going to be at least three hours of Pure Swedish Torture. At least Enjolras had the decency to bribe him with breakfast and coffee first, before dragging him out of the house.

 

“You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic about this.” Enjolras teased, putting the mug of coffee in front of Bahorel, who promptly inhaled his coffee. “I mean it’s only Ikea, how can you be so against going to ikea? You love their meatballs.”

 

“And how can you be so enthusiastic about something that gives people more reason to think we’re a married couple?” countered Bahorel, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. “I mean, MARRIED couples go to Ikea on a Saturday, voluntarily. Why are you torturing me with this Enj? Why?” he cried, placing his head on the breakfast bar.

 

“Papa?” a little voice popped up, as Melody climbed next to Bahorel at the breakfast bar in their kitchen. “Why has Daddy got his head on the counter? Is he sick.?”

 

Enjolras chuckled as Bahorel stuck his tongue at his daughter. “Your daddy is being over dramatic Mels, as usual.” He said, placing a plate of pancakes in front of her. “Now eat your breakfast, both of you. We’ve got to get to Ikea within the next hour as we’ve got things to do tonight. Especially if Courf decides he’s too bored to cook again tonight, like last Saturday.”

 

“At least he didn’t say ‘board games night’” Bahorel whispered, to a giggling Melody. “We all know how competitive your Papa gets when we’re playing Monopoly.”

 

“At least I don’t cheat at video games to beat a seven-year-old Andre.” Enjolras leveled a glare at him, and Bahorel had to resist the urge to flip him off. “Or should I full name you Andre-Pierre Christophe Bahorel.”

 

“Okay Gabriel Charles Enjolras Jr,” Bahorel laughed, as he ducked a flying kitchen sponge that Enjolras had thrown at him. “Don’t full name me then, you dick. Otherwise I’ll spend the whole day calling you Gabe, like Courfeyrac does when he’s…” Bahorel seemed to remember that they weren’t alone in the kitchen as Melody raised her eyebrows at him, in a look that was a hundred percent Enjolras’ influence. “Anyway. I’ll go and get dressed properly. Mels can you brush your teeth when you finish. And I’ll see you both in the car okay?”

 

“Papa?” Melody asked in the lapsed silence Bahorel left. “Is Daddy okay?”

 

Enjolras turned to her with a warm smile. “Of course sweetheart, now you heard your dad.” He collected her finished plate and put in the dishwasher along with the rest of their breakfast dishes. “Now go and brush your teeth and grab your shoes. We’ve got to go to shopping. I need a new book case, and Uncle Courf broke my pan, so I think we can have some fun in Ikea. What do you think?”

 

The grin he got in response was enough for Enjolras to decide that their trip to ikea was at least going to be less struggle than Bahorel would like to make it out to be. Nevertheless, spending several hours in Ikea wasn’t the way he really wanted to spend his Saturday, but in previous experience it’s never good to put off a trip to Ikea. Gathering his things together, Enjolras made his way to the car, and not trusting that Bahorel would actually drive them to Ikea, he made sure to grab the keys first and sitting in the driver’s side of their ‘sensible family car’.

 

Judging by Bahorel’s irritated grin as he opened the front door with Melody and saw Enjolras already in the car, he had foiled Bahorel’s plan to drive them for brunch or to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s so that he could escape ‘Swedish Hell’ and send Combeferre with Enjolras instead. “Just get in the car ‘Rel.” Enjolras shouted as Melody bounced along to the car, her brown curls flapping behind her. “If you promise not to moan, I’ll buy you those oaty biscuits you like in the food market.”

 

“Papa?” Melody asked, as Enjolras turned the engine over. “Can we please get an ice cream too?”

 

“Of course you can get an ice cream,” Bahorel promised before Enjolras had a chance to respond. “Especially since you’re being forced to shop against your will. On. A. Saturday. Before. Noon.”

 

“Oh god ‘Rel give it a rest.” Enjolras snapped, pulling out of the drive with a little more force than usual. “And put your belt on, you’re setting a bad example for your daughter. We’re going to Ikea; I’m not torturing you. You can always go somewhere else, and Melody and I will go to Ikea. But I thought you’d want to spend your Saturday with us, was I wrong?”

 

“No.” Bahorel replied quietly before he pressed play on the radio in the car and Taylor Swift started to play. He made to turn it over, but Melody started singing along, so he knew that turning it off wasn’t an option. Enjolras would for sure be in a foul mood for most of their journey through the several departments, and any hope Bahorel had of skipping through the sections they didn’t need was written across the tension in Enjolras’ shoulders. And it wasn’t as if he could blow the tension out of Enjolras either with Melody there, and besides they had sworn not to do that with each other, again.

 

Their journey took longer than Enjolras had expected as Bahorel managed to persuade Melody to listen to something other than Taylor Swift, she had given in eventually and Bahorel had managed to switch albums to One Direction, but at least Made in the AM didn’t give him a headache. Courfeyrac loved to tease him about being a closet One Direction fan, but that was usually answered with Enjolras hitting him with a solid object. That usually stopped his inquisitive friend for asking the question again for a few weeks.

 

Enjolras tugged one of the large shopping trolleys free from the stack and made his way through the door to the store, whilst Bahorel and Melody navigated the revolving door. He couldn’t quite fight the smile as he watched them laugh together and stop the door several times before finally exiting in a burst of giggles. Times like this made Enjolras glad that he was part of their life, and although he and Bahorel were much better off as friends, he wouldn’t change having Melody in his life for anything. “Come on slow coaches.” He called after them, as Melody ran to catch up to him.

 

“Can we please look at the teddies daddy?” Melody asked Bahorel, taking his hand as they followed Enjolras around the first section of the store. “I want a big snake, like Mr. P has in his classroom. He said he got it here. He brought his pet snake into school last week. It was called Pythagoras. I don’t know but it made Mr. R laugh. Can I get a pet snake Daddy?”

 

The grimace on Bahorel’s face was enough to make Enjolras laugh and come to a stop, before picking a giggling Melody up and swing her on to his back. “Sorry Munchkin.” He said as she tightened her arms around his neck. “I’m afraid your daddy is terrified of snakes. He doesn’t like the way they move. But we’ll get you a cuddly snake. I think your daddy can cope with a cuddly one being in the house.”

 

“I think I can stretch to that.” Bahorel agreed, ruffling Melody’s hair from her position on Enjolras’ back. The trio walked happily though the store, with Melody and Enjolras occasionally singing along to the music that they broadcast through the sound system, it made Bahorel wish he had a spare hand to take a video of the two of them together because Courfeyrac would probably flip his shit at seeing how adorable Enjolras and Melody are together, but Bahorel valued his life, so he restrained. What he wasn’t expecting as they followed the annoying arrows through the store and to Bahorel’s secretly favourite part of the store the bedroom department was to see the current object of his desire curled around Grantaire on a double mattress testing them out and looking very couple-y for a Saturday.

 

“Mr. R!” Melody shouted jumping down from Enjolras’ back, as Grantaire jumped up off of the mattress beside Feuilly. “What are you doing here? And with Mr. F?”

 

“Hello Melody.” Feuilly said with a warm smile, from his position still on the bed. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Aren’t Saturdays for fun things? Not shopping.”

 

“Papa said he needed another bookcase, and a pan. And he promised to buy me a snake like Mr. P’s in his classroom.” She smiled proudly, shaking her brown hair from her shoulders. “But my Daddy is scared of real snakes so I have to have a cuddly one, which isn’t as fun.”

 

Feuilly smirked at Bahorel’s bashful look because of his daughter calling him out. “It’s okay Melody, I’m sure you can have more fun with a cuddly toy snake than Mr. P’s Python. I wouldn’t think taking a python to bed would be half as fun as your cuddly toy snake would be. I’m sure your daddy will back me up?”

 

“Cuddly snakes are way more fun than regular snakes, Mels.” Bahorel agreed, smiling at Feuilly. Bahorel hated how his heart sped up a little around the ginger man, in tight jeans and a well-worn t-shirt, wasn’t helping Bahorel focus on what Melody was saying to the man. Having a crush one of his daughter’s teachers was going to be something akin to torture for Bahorel. And now seeing the man in the flesh away from the school, even if only for the second time, supplied Bahorel with an entirely new set of images in his mind that would probably plague his dreams again tonight. It didn’t help that they were still in the bedroom department either, or with Melody, and Enjolras, and Grantaire.  Enjolras and Grantaire who were currently engaged in what only could be described as Enjolras’ awkward way of flirting about the firmness of a mattress of all things.

 

Bahorel shook his head and pulled his focus back into the room long enough to hear Feuilly ask Melody something that turned her big brown eyes to him, and for her to pull out one of her trademark pouts, no doubt encouraged by Courfeyrac’s influence on her. “Sorry sweetie, I missed that. What did you want?”

 

“I said.” She huffed, sometimes Melody really reminded Bahorel of Enjolras. “If it was okay if Mr. F helped us find a cuddly snake. Because Papa and Mr. R have boring grown up stuff to do. And I want my snake now. Please”

Bahorel sighed, he really couldn’t say no to that face. This was going to be a massive problem in her teenage years. “I’ll have you let Papa and Mr. R know where we’re going so they don’t panic. Just give me a minute and we’ll get going.” He tapped Enjolras on the shoulder, causing the blonde man to startle and remember his place. “Hey Gabe.” Bahorel teased, knowing Enjolras wouldn’t hit him for the use of his Christian name in public. “Melody has decided that Feuilly and I have to accompany her to find her an appropriate cuddly snake. So we have to leave you and Grantaire to do ‘boring adult stuff’ and we’ll meet you in the café in half an hour?”

 

“Boring Adult stuff meaning I need a new bed, because Feuilly left the cat unsupervised in my bedroom, and now my mattress need burnt because it smells of cat pee, and that ginger...” Grantaire seemed to remember that they were in company of a minor. “… weasel is paying for it. So Enjolras and I will have fun doing ‘Boring Adult Stuff’ won’t we?”

 

Enjolras looked a little bewildered as he watched Feuilly, Bahorel and Melody walk off together. He couldn’t describe the feeling that it gave him, knowing that Bahorel had a bit of thing for Feuilly. It was almost as if he was watching Melody’s future, and it left him feeling a little empty. He was brought back by Grantaire’s hand on his elbow. “Sorry, I was a little lost in myself.” He apologised, seeing the confusion in Grantaire’s expression. “Buying a mattress sounds like a good way to spend a Saturday, although I don’t think I’ll be more fun than your boyfriend.”

 

Grantaire coughed, as he broke into a fit of laughter. Clutching the side of a very confused Enjolras, Grantaire struggled to regain his composure. “Me and Feuilly? A couple?” he laughed, wiping his eyes. “That would be an unmitigated disaster Enjolras. I mean, I love him? But.” He broke into another fit of laughter. “I’m not into stubborn Ginger bastards who don’t like cats.”

 

“Cats are way better than dogs, I’ll agree with you there.” Enjolras smiled, as he pulled Grantaire back up to full height. The darker haired man stood a couple of inches shorter than Enjolras, so that standing together the top of Grantaire’s hair tickled Enjolras’ nose. “So if you’re not together, what’s the deal?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing about Bahorel and Melody.” Grantaire countered with a raised eyebrow. “I mean that’s clearly way more complicated than ‘he’s my roommate and we work together’ isn’t it?”

 

Enjolras nodded, sitting on the nearest bed and patting the space beside him for Grantaire to join him. “I guess I should explain. Although the bed aisle in Ikea isn’t the place I usually end up explaining myself.”

 

“We could go somewhere more private?” Grantaire suggested as he looked to their left. There was an unfinished room exhibit across their path, he stood up and pulled Enjolras to his feet. “C’mon Gabe. If we’re going to get into the heavy shit, we might as well be away from prying eyes. But thanks to your detective skills I’ve finally found my new mattress.” He grinned snapping a picture of the sticker by Enjolras’ head.

 

Enjolras shook his head, but followed Grantaire anyway, abandoning their shopping trolleys outside of the room to form a sort of barrier to their hide out. He waited until Grantaire was sat beside him on the large bed that was set up before he spoke again. “Melody is distracted enough by Bahorel, so I guess I should count my blessings.” He laughed nervously as Grantaire watched him. “Erm I was seventeen I met Bahorel in a café. I had been couch surfing between Courfeyrac’s and Combeferre’s since my parents emigrated to Australia and I didn’t want to leave the country especially since I was almost finished school. He found me in a bit of a state as my parents had skyped me earlier and I hated that they left me, so I had a bit of a break down. Then here comes Bahorel with his booming voice and he half scooped me into an awkward hug. Weirdly he reminded me of Hagrid, you know from Harry Potter.”

 

“Enjolras.” Grantaire said with a serious tone. “You seriously underestimate me if I as a teacher of seven and eight-year-old children, does not know about Harry Potter.”

 

“You never know these things.” He returned with a smile. “I have met people who haven’t had exposure to either the movie, books or the musical.”

 

“How empty their lives must be.”  Grantaire agreed, with a grave tone. “But some people don’t have time for joy in their lives. You were saying?” he prompted, waiting for Enjolras to continue.

 

“As I was saying.” Enjolras continued, trying not to look at Grantaire. “Seventeen-year-old me, and here comes Bahorel with the offer of a spare room. I didn’t have to pay rent, just clean the flat. Bahorel just said he didn’t want to live alone, and his roommate he’d had at university moved out. I turned eighteen two weeks after I met Bahorel and he helped me study for my exams, it was nice for me be out of the Courfeyrac/Combeferre bubble. Even if they hadn’t quite figured out that they wanted one another, yet.” He paused seeing Grantaire’s expression. “They’re my two best friends, I had to put up with their unresolved tension for years. Believe me it was torture.”

 

“We’ve all been there Enj.”

 

“So fast forward a year, and I’m in my first year of University, and Bahorel is going into his final year and there’s a knock on the door. And we see two police officers looking very somber. They bring us down to the station and suddenly Bahorel has custody of this beautiful eighteen-month-old little girl with his big brown eyes. Her mother Harmony had named Bahorel as next of kin for Melody had anything happened to her, given that she didn’t speak to her family. Sadly, Harmony passed away in an accident so suddenly Bahorel had custody of an eighteen-year-old and an eighteen-month-old. I offered to move out, find my own place you know? But ‘Rel needed me to stay, so a semester out so that Bahorel could finish his degree. And then I couldn’t leave.” He scoffed, wiping the tears that he hadn’t realised were falling from his eyes. “As soon as she started calling me Papa, I knew I’d never be able to leave. That little girl has me wrapped around her finger. ‘Rel too. I mean ‘Rel and I won’t be anything more than friends, but I don’t think I could ever leave Melody.”

 

“Hey hey hey!” Grantaire assured him, wrapping his arm around Enjolras. “I get its complicated as hell, and I know that’s an understatement. But like, you’re an idiot for thinking Melody wouldn’t want you around if Bahorel did find someone. Why would a little girl like Melody not want more dads? Or even uncles? More people to wrap around her little finger. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

 

“I don’t know Grantaire.” Enjolras looked at his hands, wringing them together. “God I feel like such a mess.” He laughed, wiping his eyes again. “I’m sorry I’ve unloaded on you. It really shouldn’t have been my place.”

 

“Firstly, call me R.” Grantaire began, placing his hands over Enjolras’. “And I’m glad that I know the situation better, and thank you for explaining it to me. Don’t beat yourself up about it Enjolras, Melody isn’t going to let you leave her. And Bahorel wouldn’t let you leave anyway. Don’t fret.” Grantaire checked his watch and saw they only had ten minutes before they had to meet Bahorel, Feuilly and Melody. You’re not a god Enjolras don’t beat yourself up about feeling things. Talk to Bahorel about things. Especially if he’s going to be serious about going after my teaching assistant. I mean did you see the way he looked at Feuilly? Thirsty much?”

 

Enjolras chuckled as he got to his feet pulling Grantaire up with him. “Right?!” he laughed, as they walked together towards the section of the store Enjolras needed. “I mean he’s literally not shut up about him, it’s kind of embarrassing really. If not a little endearing.”

 

“For such a big man, he really wears his expressions really openly.” Grantaire observed, as he offered Enjolras a reassuring smile. “I think they could be quite good together, don’t you think?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't fret, part 2 will be with you soon. But I thought I'd split the chapter in 2.


	4. Pure Swedish Torture (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending his Saturday with a student, her attractive father and an abundance of stuffed animals wasn’t exactly how Feuilly had pictured his Saturday morning going when Grantaire had dragged him out of the house an hour ago. ......

Spending his Saturday with a student, her attractive father and an abundance of stuffed animals wasn’t exactly how Feuilly had pictured his Saturday morning going when Grantaire had dragged him out of the house an hour ago. First of all, since their meeting yesterday Feuilly found himself thinking about the cheeky grin that Bahorel gave him and his, as Grantaire put it, ‘wanting-to-bone-you-less-than-subtle’ flirting yesterday. Especially since they were still pretty sure than Bahorel was in a relationship with Enjolras. However, when faced with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed seven-year-old on a Saturday who insisted that he accompanied her and her father whilst she chose the perfect stuffed snake, Feuilly was powerless to resist.

 

“Mr. F! Mr. F!” Melody called, pulling him along with her arm so she was now between Bahorel and Feuilly. “You have to hurry up, otherwise I won’t have time to find my snake before we have to meet Mr. R and Papa. Isn’t that right Daddy?”

 

Bahorel chuckled, his expression fond as he looked down at his daughter. “God forbid we don’t find the correct snake.”

 

“Daddy!”  Melody huffed, sticking her tongue out at Bahorel.

 

“I regret the day Enjolras taught her about sarcasm.” Bahorel said, following dutifully behind Melody as she dragged them to the toy section of the store. “There’s nothing more embarrassing when your daughter calls you out for being sarcastic. Courfeyrac thinks it’s hilarious. That’s because he’s a dick.”

 

“Daddy, don’t swear.” Melody whined, as Bahorel and Feuilly had slowed down behind her. “Mr. F, you should have told him off. You told James off for saying it at school yesterday.”

 

Feuilly had to stifle his sniggers behind his hand before he could compose himself. “You’re quite right Melody.” He teased, poking Bahorel playfully in the side. “You shouldn’t use language like that Bahorel, especially around young impressionable people. You should apologise.”

 

Bahorel glared at Feuilly, who was still struggling to control a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry Mels.” He began sweeping down to pick her up. “Mr. F is right. I shouldn’t swear around young impressionable people. I do apologise. Do you forgive me?”

 

Melody paused to think about Bahorel’s words before she smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I forgive you Daddy.” She replied with a firm nod. “Even If you’re silly, but can we please pick my snake out now?”

 

“Of course Princess.” Bahorel put her back on the floor and watched her as she darted off to the large container of stuffed snakes. “Shall we?” he addressed to Feuilly who seemed a little dazed.

 

“I’ll catch up, I’m just going to…” He returned, and Bahorel seemed to accept his answer leaving Feuilly to recover his heart rate a little. Feuilly wasn’t sure if his heart would recover from the cuteness of Bahorel and Melody together, and just how attractive Feuilly found it. Melody was one of Feuilly’s favourite students in his class, of course he was a little fond of her. Bahorel as a dad was more than Feuilly could handle, that’s why he had to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to splash himself with cold water. Feuilly wasn’t sure when ‘hot-dads’ had become something that he was into, but seeing Bahorel with his daughter left Feuilly feeling a little light-headed, but knowing that he couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever he had to head back out to help Melody pick out her snake after all.

 

“What took you so long?” Bahorel asked him as he returned to find Melody with three stuffed snakes wrapped around her neck. “Melody got herself started without you, as you can see.” He gestured to Melody who was now attempting to wrap a fourth snake around her neck.

 

“I can see she now resembles an extra from a Britney video.” Feuilly commented humming ‘I’m a slave for you’ under his breath.

 

Bahorel chuckled, as he helped Melody pull off three of the four snakes she had wrapped around her. “Nice reference there by the way.” He said, before looking back to Melody. “Have you made your mind up sweetheart?”

 

“I think so.” She answered, holding up a green and blue snake for Feuilly to inspect. “What do you think Mr. F? What can I name him? I don’t think Pythagoras is a good name for him. He’s not the same as Mr. P’s snake. He’s much more colourful…”

 

“Oh I don’t know Mel.” Feuilly replied, crouching down to her level as she wrapped the snake around his neck. He turned the snake’s plush head towards  her face and hissed, causing the girl to squeal in delight. “What do you think Mr. Snake?” he turned the snakes face towards himself, pretending to have a conversation with it. “I think he likes the name Magnus?”

 

“Are we talking from Matilda, or from that Shadow Hunters thing?” Bahorel asked, as Melody considered the name. “You know with the bisexual warlock with guyliner and the girl with the ridiculously red hair?”

 

“I was going with Matlida, but I agree about the Shadow Hunters thing.” Feuilly laughed, leaning into Bahorel’s space. “I mean I’ve not read the books, so no spoilers but I binge-watched the thing in a day because I was hungover. So R and I kind of took the piss. I mean werewolves with green eyes? I thought teen wolf was bullshit enough.”

 

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd!” Bahorel teased, wrapping his arm around Feuilly, and ruffling his hair. “Next you’ll be telling me you have a Harry Potter tattoo or something equally as nerdy. I mean you obviously talk to snakes. Does that mean you’re a parselmouth too Feuilly? Are you going to set a Basilisk on me for being muggle born?”

 

“Daddy!” Melody interrupted, bursting their little bubble, causing Bahorel to blush a little. “I think my snake is called Magnus, can we go and have food now please? I’m bored. Do you think Mr. R and Papa will be long?”

 

Feuilly checked his watch. “I think we have five minutes before they’re supposed to meet us Melody.” He informed her, as they began to move towards the café where they promised to meet Enjolras and Grantaire. The café seemed busy, which Feuilly assumed was usual for a Saturday, so he sent Melody and Bahorel off to find a table large enough for the five of them, as he joined the queue to get a round of drinks and a muffin for Melody. He couldn’t ignore the weird tension that he and Bahorel had between them, even with Melody there, and he couldn’t deny the attraction between them. But Feuilly wasn’t going to get in between Bahorel and Enjolras, he wasn’t going to be the ‘other woman’, he was going to have to curb his feelings down.  For Melody’s sake at least.

 

Bahorel was enjoying his surprise morning with Feuilly and Melody, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Enjolras’ face, given how the blonde was known to be smug when right. Which Bahorel had learned to live with in the six years that they had known one another. Melody was happily colouring in with the crayons that Bahorel didn’t realise that she had, her little tongue sticking out as she concentrated on staying within the lines. Bahorel let his mind wander over to the red-headed man in the queue, even from behind Bahorel liked what he saw. Broad shoulders, small waist and an ass you could bounce a penny off of. It was naive of him to assume Feuilly would be interested in him, but never the less the more time he spent with the man, the less crazy the thought of asking Feuilly out seemed to him.  

 

Even with Melody, Bahorel knew his daughter adored Feuilly, so that wasn’t an issue. What was the issue is that he couldn’t exactly ask a man out in the middle of an ikea café, although it probably wasn’t the worst place that Bahorel had asked a guy or girl out. One memory of asking Harmony to go out with him in the middle of a Costa coffee sprang to his mind.

 

“Daddy?” Melody questioned, as she brought Bahorel out of the trail of thought that was no doubt going to lead him down somewhere he shouldn’t really focus on in the middle of ikea. “Do you like Mr. F?”

 

Bahorel frowned, surely he couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Mr. Feuilly is a nice guy, of course I like him.”

 

Melody gave her father a look that he had seen on Enjolras many times, looking over her colouring book at him with her intense stare. “Everyone likes Mr. F.” she said with a huge sigh. “That’s not what I meant Daddy.” She explained, putting her book down now. “I meant do you grown up like him. Like Uncle Courf and Uncle Ferre. Papa explained that they ‘Grown Up Liked’ each other for ages. Before they kissed and fell in love. So do you like Mr F like that? Because you keep smiling at him, and touching him like Uncle Courf and Uncle Ferre.”

 

Bahorel was thankfully saved from answering that question as Feuilly returned with their drinks and he busied himself with going to grab sugar for his coffee, even though he saw that Feuilly had it on the tray. He sat back opposite Feuilly, his face a little flushed as Melody returned to her colouring, occasionally taking bites of her cookie. “Is everything okay Bahorel?” Feuilly asked, his head titled to the side as if to figure out what was going on his head.

 

Bahorel hummed as he busied himself putting sugar into his coffee, hoping he could stall Feuilly until Grantaire and Enjolras returned. “I’m okay.” He said as he managed to regain the frantic beating of his hear. “Sometimes I curse the fact that Melody has spent so much time around Enjolras because he’s had way too much influence on her. It’s a little scary sometimes.” He looked up to see a familiar blonde mop of hair, who was busy laughing at something Grantaire had said. “Speak of the devil.” He laughed, as they both approached the table. “You two look hella cosy.”

 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and Bahorel’s choice of words. “I can’t believe you’d use hella in a conversation.” He took the empty seat beside Feuilly, so Grantaire would sit opposite him. “And there’s a lot of bonding a man can do when buying a mattress apparently. Ikea is a strange place.”

 

“That and Enjolras is surprisingly hilarious.” Grantaire teased, offering Enjolras a smile over the table. “Feuilly, where’s my drink?” he asked, as he finally realised that he and Enjolras didn’t have anything on the table to drink.

 

“You can get it yourself R.” Feuilly said, sipping at his tea with a smug grin. “I took care of myself, Bahorel and Melody. You and Enjolras can fend for yourselves.”

 

“How freaking rude!” Grantaire huffed, as he stood back up. “See if I buy you food you donkey. C’mon blondie, let’s go get something to eat.” He said to Enjolras. “Hey Melody, would you like another drink?”

 

Melody looked up from her shading of a tree in a deep shade of red to Grantaire’s question. “No thank you Mr. R.” she answered with a smile. “But could I please have another cookie?”

 

“How have you ate your cookie already Mels?” Bahorel asked, looking at his daughter in disbelief.

 

“I ate it when you were busy not-talking to Mr. F.” she answered sweetly, as Bahorel flushed again. “When you were just looking and not talking to each other. That’s when I ate it. So I would like another one please.”

 

“One cookie coming up!” Grantaire announced as he pulled Enjolras away before they both burst into a fit of giggles. “I was two minutes away from singing ‘Can you feel the love tonight?’”

 

Enjolras laughed as he grabbed one of the generic grey trays and followed Grantaire into the queue. “I think we’re two days away from Bahorel stealing my Spotify account and blasting ‘Songs about Jane’ like he’s thirteen again. Don’t you think they’d be probably quite good together? I don’t know why they’re not flirting with one another?”

 

“Maybe they don’t want to start something up on an ikea café?” Grantaire offered, grabbing himself a slice of cake from the fridge. “What?” he asked, noting Enjolras’ eyes on him. “If I want cake for breakfast on a Saturday, I’ll have cake for breakfast. You don’t get to judge me. I’m an adult.”

 

Enjolras held his hands up on surrender. “This is a judgement-free zone. Although to call yourself an adult is pushing it. You’re wearing a cookie monster t-shirt, and I think you’re wearing Harry Potter socks.”

 

Grantaire’s face dropped in pretend outrage. “First and foremost Blondie. There is nothing wrong with wearing graphic t-shirts, and the cookie monster is the best character in Sesame Street.” He jabbed a finger in Enjolras’ chest. “Don’t think I didn’t see the fact you’re wearing Disney Vans although I don’t think I’ve counted a hundred and one Dalmatians on them, and that makes me sad. And I’ll have you know, my socks are The Flash, not Harry Potter. Not that there’s anything wrong with Harry Potter Socks, that you very much. I own several pairs.”

 

“I prefer Marvel to DC.” Enjolras answered with a shrug, picking up a cookie for Melody, and a drink for himself. “Sadly there’s only sixty-three Dalmatians on my shoes.” He said, looking down at his feet. “I was disappointed when there wasn’t a hundred and one, or even ninety-nine? Y’know like the puppies?”

 

Grantaire badly concealed a snort. “Enjolras, dear.” He began, patting the taller man’s arm. “I’m twenty-five, a teacher of small children, of course I know how many bloody puppies there are. I actual have a Disney tattoo. And I will give you a prize if you can get it within three guesses.” He teased, paying quickly for both their trays before Enjolras could protest. “You have until we leave the café to guess them. As I’m sure we’ve taken up enough of your morning.”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and followed Grantaire back to their seats where Feuilly and Bahorel were still hardly talking to one another. “My first guess is ‘second start to the right and straight on till morning”

 

“Would I really be that cheesy?” Grantaire scoffed, passing Feuilly another cup of coffee. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old girl. Try again.”

 

“What is he trying to guess?” Feuilly questioned, glad to have a distraction from the weird tension between himself and Bahorel that wasn’t there before.

 

“Loras Tyrell here is trying to guess my Disney tattoo.” Grantaire answered, slicing his fork though his cake and popping the forkful into his mouth. “For a prize.”

 

“If Enjolras is Loras, does that make you Renly?” Feuilly teased him, as Grantaire stuck his tongue out at him. “And which Disney tattoo? because you have three. Or did you decline to tell him that.”

 

“You spoil all my fun Mathieu. You really do.” He returned with a sigh. “And I have a lot of tattoos, Enjolras didn’t have to know that. I have to keep them hidden at school, but I like being a little different.” He smiled at Enjolras. “I have three Disney tattoos, although only one is ‘traditional’ Disney.”

 

“Well I’m not going to get three tattoos with only two guesses left.” Enjolras quipped taking a bite of his cake and getting cream on his nose, which he didn’t detect, before putting the cake back on his plate. “Okay, my guess is one of them is a Disney Villain.”

 

Melody giggled as she looked up to see the cream on Enjolras’ nose. “I know what Mr. R’s tattoos are.” She answered. “And one of them is Ursula from the Little Mermaid.”

 

“So I’m right then?” Enjolras grinned, noting that Bahorel and Feuilly both are smiling at him. “What?”

 

“Nothing!” they chorused, catching Grantaire and Melody’s matching grins. “Go on.” Feuilly prompted.

 

Enjolras frowned in suspicion, taking another bite of his cake, smearing more cream on his nose. “You’re twenty-five, so I assume you’ve grown up with the same Disney movies I have…” he began.

 

“You’re a year younger than me Blondie. I was sure a pretty face like yours could do math.” Grantaire said with a sarcastic smile as Enjolras glared at him. “You’re probably right.”

 

“So I’m torn between Lion King and Toy Story for my next and final guess.” Continued Enjolras, considering his options and trying to ignore the stares of the other four people at his table. “Okay, what?!” he snapped after a moment of barely concealed giggles.

 

“You have cream on your nose papa.” Melody giggled, as Enjolras tickled her under the table. “Don’t tickle me!” she whined.

 

“Pass me a tissue please. You smug so-n-so” Enjolras huffed, as he wiped his nose.  “I can’t believe you let me sit there with cream on my nose.”

 

Bahorel shrugged, kicking Enjolras under the table. “You could do with being a little bit relaxed about things. It’s only a bit of cream Enj. Not the end of the world.”

 

If Enjolras could have rolled his eyes any harder, he would have. “I’m going to go with ‘Hakuna Matata’ as my final guess.” He said to Grantaire as he watched the other man wince. “Was it Toy Story?”

 

Grantaire nodded, as he pushed up the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal a little alien from Toy Story on his arm with the claw above it. “I’ll give you the guess because you had it anyway.” He smiled, pulling his sleeve down again. “I’ll tell you the third one later, because unfortunately Feu and I have to go. I need to set my bed up as we’re hosting a party tonight and someone will probably steal my bed.” He stood up and passed a piece of paper to Enjolras. “C’mon Feu. We best be off.” He pulled Feuilly to his feet. “See you on Monday Melody!” he said with a wave.

 

“Bye Mr. R!” she called over to him as he went to retrieve his purchases. “Bye Mr. F!” she added as Feuilly went to join Grantaire.

 

“Bye Mels!” Feuilly shouted back over to her, trotting off to join Grantaire.

 

Bahorel and Enjolras waved to them both as they left. Enjolras found himself smiling as he had enjoyed his morning with Grantaire more than he thought he would enjoy his morning with a whiny Bahorel. They gathered their dishes together and cleared them away, before gathering their small family together and making their way out to pay for the bookcase and pans that Enjolras had gathered through his travels through the store. As they walked to the car, he put his hand in his back pocket to pull out what Grantaire gave him earlier.

 

“Whats that?” Bahorel asked, as he grabbed the keys out of Enjolras hands so that he could drive them home.

 

Enjolras unfolded the napkin and smiled at the message that was written on there. “A message from Grantaire.” He answered, pulling out his mobile phone to send a quick message.

 

_‘Are you going to tell me about your third Disney Tattoo then? x’_

 


	5. Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exercise in moderation

Sundays were a day of rest for both Grantaire and Feuilly. Everything they needed to plan for the week they finished on Fridays, Saturdays were for little chores that they had put off during the week, and Sunday was their day to recharge. They both took turns in planning an activity for them to do together, even if they saw one another every day, they both never tired of being around one another, teasing aside, their friendship had always been intense, and strong. Although, if they both passed out together on the same bed, Feuilly wasn’t a big fan of the way Grantaire hogged the covers, but it was one of his flaws.

 

The surprise of Bahorel and Enjolras in Ikea yesterday, had thrown Feuilly for a bit of loop because he found himself drinking a little more than usual on a Saturday Night, playing drinking games with Grantaire watching Netflix, because drinking at home was so much cheaper. What he hadn’t expected too much was Grantaire being glued to his phone and smiling ridiculously at the messages he received. What bothered Feuilly the most is that Grantaire wouldn’t tell him who he was texting, and their relationship was surprisingly open for two men in their twenties.

 

They met towards their end of their first year of university through the salsa society, and Grantaire needed third housemate for their second year, so invited Feuilly to live with him and Babet. However, within weeks of them living together Babet turned out to be the worst housemate imaginable causing Feuilly and Bahorel to spend most of their time hauled in one another’s rooms, or communicating through skype and their thick concrete walls. Unfortunately, they were tied to their lease for a year, but that year of hell cemented their friendship, as nothing builds friendship like mutual hate, and binge-watching shit television shows.

 

Now they’re both twenty-five, and still living together. They share three cats, although Grantaire is the one who looks after them the most, Feuilly monopolises the cat hugs. Something he was taking advantage of, in his currently hungover state, whilst the smell of bacon wafted through their apartment. Sometimes Feuilly really loved living with Grantaire, he did take care of him well. “Taire?” Feuilly whined, which came out more of a croak. “Are you bringing me bacon?”   

 

“I dunno.” Grantaire called back, before he pushed open Feuilly’s door and leaned against the doorframe. In his hands he held a mug of coffee and a large bacon roll. “It depends if you can move from my bed and come and get it really…” he moved a little closer to wave the smell of the bacon nearer to Feuilly. “I had to carry you to bed. So you really need to learn to not do shots if you can’t keep up with me you Ginger Prick.”

 

Feuilly whined in protest and buried his head in the duvet, causing the cat he was petting to jump up in fright. “But I’m your Ginger Prick.” Feuilly complained again as Grantaire was still hovering too far away with the bacon and coffee. “And you love me, so please give me coffee and bacon….”

 

“If you actually had any social skills your Ginger Prick would be in someone else’s bed, and not mine at eleven thirty on a Sunday Morning.” Grantaire reminded him, perching on the end of the bed. “I’m pretty sure Bahorel would gladly have you there. If that awkward flirting that was going on between you two yesterday. I never thought I’d meet anyone with less game than you.” He passed Feuilly the bacon sandwich. “The Coffee is for me, since you’re going to be a bitch to deal with today.”

 

“Is it possible to love you and hate you at the same time?” Feuilly asked, through a mouthful of bacon sandwich. “And Bahorel isn’t interested in me. He’s not exactly single is he?”

 

Grantaire sighed, as he drained his coffee. “You’ve not exactly asked him have you?”  He reminded him, rolling his eyes at Feuilly. “This is my fault giving you alcohol. I forget you’re worse than ‘Parnasse with a hangover. And he’s the neediest little shit. Remember the night of Prouvaire’s birthday? I had to make him toast and stroke his hair because Jehan was still asleep. I should be grateful you’re not Montparnasse.”

 

“You love me.” Feuilly smiled, handing Grantaire his empty plate. “Can I have another please? Since you know how you love me so much.”

 

“I hate you.” Grantaire reminded him, as he got up to make Feuilly another bacon sandwich anyway.

 

* * *

 

_Please tell me that ‘Rel is as pathetic as Feuilly about this? Because I want to strangle the Ginger Prick._

Enjolras snorted as his mobile phone buzzed with a message from Grantaire. They had been trading text messages back and forth since leaving ikea yesterday. He knew Bahorel was a little suspicious of Enjolras being glued to his phone, because the only people he frequently texted were Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and given it was a Saturday they would no doubt be engaged in things that they were banned from doing in Bahorel and Enjolras’ house.

 

**I don’t know what you want me to say R. Would it make you feel better if Baz was as pathetically whiny as Feuilly?**

_You know it would Enjolras. Throw me a bone here. Please._

“What’s got you smirking at your phone at this time on a Sunday Morning?” Bahorel asked, as he walked in on Enjolras smirking at his phone screen. “It can’t be Fey or Ferre, since they’re taking Mel to the science museum. And we know Courf loves playing cool uncle, so won’t be texting you.”

 

“I text other people that aren’t Courf or Ferre!” Enjolras replied defensively.

 

“If you say Eponine or me I will literally punch you.”  Bahorel teased, pushing past Enjolras to make himself a coffee. “So out with it, who are you texting?”

 

**‘Rel isn’t so much whining, he’s just pissing me off. He wants to know who I’m texting.**

_Tell him it’s Feu. Tell me his reaction._

**He’d probably punch me, but sure.**

“If you must know. I’m texting Feuilly.” Enjolras said, with a smile, as he watched carefully for Bahorel’s reaction.

 

The bottom of Bahorel’s stomach dropped and the colour drained from his face. “You and Feuilly?”

 

Enjolras smirked, Grantaire was right this was going to be fun. “He gave me his number before we left Ikea yesterday. I mean only for professional purposes of course. Although we’ve been talking about Game of Thrones recently.”

 

“You wouldn’t watch Game of Thrones with me!” Bahorel exclaimed looking up at Enjolras with a wounded expression. “When did you watch Game of Thrones? You asshole!”

 

“I watched 5 seasons in about a week when you and Melody went on holiday.” Enjolras shrugged firing off another text to Grantaire.

 

**Bahorel thinks I’m into Feuilly, thanks for that. I don’t know if he’s more offended by the fact I caught up on GoT without him.**

 

_Haha! You’d fit in with the Lannister’s quite well._

**Excuse you! I’m totally a Tyrell thank you very much.**

* * *

 

_Keep telling yourself that Blondie, I’m obviously a stark. I have the dark hair for it after all._

Grantaire smiled to himself as he made Feuilly another breakfast, enjoying the monotony of frying bacon, and secretly hoping that the smell of bacon tempted Feuilly out of his bed. Exchanging messages with Enjolras was more entertaining than Grantaire had anticipated, although he always did enjoy flirting with hot blondes, with Enjoras it felt a little more than just flirting.

 

He supposed that he ought to test the theory that Feuilly would be equally as distressed to find that Bahorel would be flirting with him, as Bahorel to think that Feuilly was into Enjolras. But that would mean Feuilly getting up, and it we hard enough to persuade the ginger bastard to get up without a hangover.

 

**You really want to be a Stark, just so you can be the Hero. You'd rock the Nights Watch shit though.**

Grantaire flicked up the camera on his phone to take a picture of himself flipping Enjolras off, just as Feuilly walked into the kitchen. “Who are you sending selfie’s too?” he asked, taking a seat on the breakfast bar.

 

“Bahorel.” Grantaire replied instantly, noting the frown on Feuilly’s face. “He wanted to know what I was doing. So I flipped him off. Naturally.”

 

“Because that’s the obvious response to a question?”  Feuilly questioned, ignoring the queasy feeling in his chest about Bahorel talking to Grantaire. “And why is Bahorel texting you?”

 

“I’m an adult, so I can respond to a text message however I damn well please you moron.” Grantaire stuck his tongue out at the other man, as he plated the sandwich up for Feuilly. “And who cares if Bahorel is texting me, it’s a free country. Why?” he added with a teasing smile. “Would you rather Bahorel text you?”

 

“No.” Feuilly replied defensively, as he bit into the sandwich so that he wouldn’t have to talk to Grantaire anymore.

 

“No?” Grantaire teased, making himself another cup of coffee. “Are you sure that you’re not grumpy because the man you have a thing for is texting me.”

 

“Bahorel doesn’t like me.” Feuilly replied quietly, not looking up at Grantaire. “Besides he isn’t single like I told you.”

 

“And how many times have we been mistaken for a couple?” Grantaire reminded him, before disappearing from the kitchen leaving Feuilly feeling, sad, alone and confused.

 

* * *

 

_I’ll totally be Jon Snow if you’ll be my Ygritte._

Enjolras quickly snapped a picture of himself blowing a kiss in response, noting Bahorel side-eyeing him again. “What’s that expression for?” Enjolras asked, as Bahorel held his hands up in defence.

 

“Look I don’t know what shit you’re doing with Feuilly, but if you’re going to flirt with him, can you at least go in the other room.” Bahorel asked, looking up at Enjolras. “I may actually go and meet up with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. I’m sure Melody would be happy to see me.”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pulled Bahorel back to him. “’Rel there’s no need to go in a huff with me.” He pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. “Look, go and sit on the sofa. And I’ll let you pick anything you want to watch. And if you want to complain about gingers, I won’t even complain. I’m not texting Feuilly. I’m texting Grantaire.”

 

“So you were fucking with me?” Bahorel gave Enjolras a glare, and pulled him into the living room. “Like you’re not texting Feuilly? Or flirting with him?”

 

“I’m not flirt—“

 

“You’re taking selfies and smiling at your phone,” Bahorel reminded him. “I’ve seen you flirt. I know what you flirting looks like. Enj. You’re totally flirting with Grantaire. And he’s probably flirting back, but you wouldn’t see that. Give me your phone. Let me reply to him.”

 

“Do I have to?” Enjolras whined.

 

“You were winding me up, you are the worst.” Bahorel nodded, grabbin Enolras’ phone from him. “Its only fair. Besides if I text Ferre from your phone it doesn’t sound like I’m checking up too much on Mel, so it’s a win-win really.”

 

“Let the girl have a day off ‘Rel.” Enjolras laughed, joining Bahorel on their spacious couch. “You’re not texting him without my final approval by the way. I want to read what you write.”

 

“Spoil Sport.”

 

* * *

 

**I’d rather not be Ygritte, but if you find me a ginger wig I’ll play along.**

Grantaire laughed at Enjolras’ response, taking a quick picture of Feuilly. “What should we do today Feu?” he questioned, sitting opposite Feuilly on their breakfast bar, and petting the cat that jumped up beside them. “Watch Minevra, she’ll be after your bacon.”

 

“She can f’k off.” Feuilly replied grumpily as he swatted the cat away from his breakfast. “Anyway shouldn’t you be busy flirting with Bahorel to bother with me today?”

 

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I take back what I said, you’re worse than fucking ‘Parnasse.” He leaned over to ruffle Feuilly’s hair. “I’m not flirting with your man you whiny little shit. I’m texting Enjolras.” Feuilly looked up at him and gave him a hopeful look, Grantaire could have slapped him. “We bonded yesterday. That’s all. If I wanted to watch you and Bahorel awkward flirt all day, I’d have given Enjolras your number for him. But alas. When a pretty blonde man asks for my number I’m powerless to resist.”

Feuilly clipped him around the head. “You ass!” He snapped, causing the poor cat to jump and scatter from the kitchen. “You didn’t’ have to wind me up like that. I’m sad and hungover.”

 

 

“You’d do the same to me!” Grantaire replied, dodging the flying teatowel that Feuilly had flung at him. “You’ve done the same to me, on multiple occasions. Because you’re a dick. And you’re also my best friend. It was pay back!”

 

 

“I’m going to fucking end you.” Threatened Feuilly grabbing a bottle of cold water from the fridge, and squeezing it in Grantaire’s direction.

 

 

“You prick!” Grantaire squealed, as the cold water hit him. “I made you breakfast and this is how you treat me?!”

 

“And you’re an asshole!”

 

“I’m your asshole Feu.” Grantaire pouted, using a pan to deflect the water away from him as Feuilly continued to throw water at him. “You love me, it’s in the ‘I’m your best friend for life you dick’ contract you had me sign when we moved out of university. Stop attacking me!”

 

“You know you deserve it.” Feuilly said with an evil grin, finally giving up and dumping the rest of the water bottle on Grantaire’s head. What he hadn’t anticipated was Grantaire pulling him down and making Feuilly just as wet as he was. “Get off me you massive lump! I’m hungover, I shouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit on a Sunday morning. You’re worse than the kids.”

 

“I resent that.” Grantaire laughed, pinning Feuilly on the kitchen floor with his thighs. “I’m a responsible adult.” He said, grabbing the nearest box of flour to him and sprinkling it on Feuilly’s damp face. “I’m definitely an adult.”

 

“Get off me you giant lump!” Feuilly attempted to push Grantaire off of him and getting flour everywhere in the process. “I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.”

 

“You love me.” Grantaire grinned, pressing a slopping kiss to Feuilly’s cheek and using his phone to take a picture and sending it to Enjolras. “I made a Feuilly pancake. And now I’m going to have a shower, and leave you to clean up the kitchen. Love you Feu.”

 

“I hope you drown!” Feuilly called after him, pushing himself up off of the floor. He was definitely going to have to get Grantaire back for this, but how.

 

 


	6. The Floor is Lava

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little late! 
> 
> Thanks for the lovely feedback guys, glad you're all enjoying it.

“I don’t understand why she picked that dress!” was the first thing Enjolras heard when he walked through the door a little after six, after a long day of dealing with paperwork and argumentative assholes.

 

“Daddy I think she looks pretty!” a second voice piped up, now Enjolras knew he would never get control of the television tonight if Bahorel and Melody were watching ‘Say Yes To The Dress’ again. One of Bahorel’s many ‘guilty pleasures’ that he had roped Melody into watching with him. Enjolras could count the days, if not weeks he’d lost to hearing them talk about wedding dresses.

 

“Mel, she’s obviously not thinking straight.” Enjolras heard Bahorel say, as he took off his coat and shoes. “That neckline is completely ridiculous, her shoulders are too broad to cope with anything that isn’t strapless, and ball-gowns are over rated. She needs to go for a mermaid dress.”

 

“I still laugh when people think you’re a rough and ready type of man.” Enjolras interrupted, leaning against the door frame of their living room, and embracing Melody when she came out to greet him. “You get way too invested in this trash. Its endearing, yes. But really annoying too. Now you’ve corrupted your daughter with it.”

 

“I like when Daddy watches wedding shows with me.” Melody pouted, as she moved away from Enjolras and back to Bahorel. “I like pretty dresses, and nobody else at school has a daddy that will watch things like this with them.”

 

“See Enjolras, Melody appreciates me.” Bahorel teased, as he pulled Melody on to his lap. “How was work love?”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, as he moved from the living room to their kitchen. “It was fine, which you know about. But someone skipped half a day to take Mel to the dentist. Which was at three, and there was no need to leave work at twelve, or take her from school at one.”

 

“How do you know about that?” Bahorel snapped, looking up at Enjolras with a less-than-innocent expression.

 

“You know how I found out.” Enjolras quipped, wiggling his phone in Bahorel’s direction. “Someone grassed you up.”

 

“Curly-haired pest.” Bahorel grumbled, as he turned off the tv. “Does that mean you’re making dinner tonight Enj?”

 

“I was going to order pizza,” Enjolras began, ignoring Melody’s hopefully look. “I said I was going to Melody. But as I suspect your father already has given you sweets tonight, I think I’m going to make a stir-fry, we’ve got chicken left. It shouldn’t take too long.” He assured them, ignoring the puppy eyes that Bahorel was giving him. “You’re eating something healthy Baz, quit moaning.”

 

“Since when do you want to voluntarily cook?” Bahorel asked him with an air of suspicion. “You hate cooking…”

 

“A stir fry isn’t really cooking.”  Enjolras shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t exactly going to admit to Bahorel that Grantaire had put the idea in his head when they were texting through their lunch breaks. Truth be told, Enjolras liked cooking if he was allowed to take his time about a dish and not have to deal with a fussy eight-year-old and her even fussier father, he still hasn’t quite recovered from the mistake he made when introducing Bahorel to try tuna that wasn’t from a can. Luckily, Melody was a little more open minded to trying new things.

 

“I think your papa is telling a little white lie there Mels.” Bahorel stage whispered for Enjolras’ benefit. “Come on Princess, lets finish our show so we can have something for dinner. But don’t worry, I have the pizza place on speed dial should something happen.”

* * *

* * *

 

 

Spending a Wednesday night in Accident and Emergency wasn’t exactly how Feuilly had envisioned it when he and Grantaire had left school that night, but he had to live with an idiot of a best friend who decided to take a lesson from the eight-year-olds in their classroom and managed to break his foot. Apparently playing ‘lava’ at twenty-six years old was the correct way to cross the living room to answer the door to the pizza delivery guy. Naturally Grantaire insisted they ate the pizza before driving to the hospital, there was no use in wasting pizza.

 

“You’re going to have to go on without me.” Grantaire moaned dramatically, using his arm to shield his eyes from the garish lights of the hospital. “I’m a broken man.”

 

“The nurse said you’ll have to wear a cast for six weeks, and you wouldn’t be able to take the kids out on the nature walk on Friday, but at least you get to pick the colour of the cast. And you can return to work on Monday if you’ve got the hang of the crutches. Stop bitching.”

 

“Are you going to tell the kids how Mr. R broke his foot?”

 

Feuilly rolled his eyes at his best friend. “Obviously that would undermine your authority in the classroom, and make the kids laugh at you.”

 

Grantaire sighed despite himself. “That’s a big fat fucking yes then.”

 

“Obviously.” Feuilly gave him a shit-eating grin. “I mean are you really going to deprive me of the opportunity to make you look like an idiot R? I mean you’ve done the same thing to me many times. Especially when you mentioned to Jehan when I got drunk and got a butterfly tattoo.”

 

“You got a tramp stamp!” Grantaire laughed, his whole body moving with his laughter before he forgot the dull pain in his foot. “I mean you went full Mosby like Ted in how I met your mother. I mean I knew you shouldn’t have gone out with a bunch of art teachers, but your loss was inevitably my gain.”

 

“For that comment I’m definitely telling the kids you broke your foot playing ‘The Floor Is Lava’” Feuilly flipped Grantaire off, just as the nurse came in to make a start on Grantaire’s cast. She glared at him before rolling her eyes as Grantaire went to mimic the gesture. “And I’m going outside to text Enjolras because you’re as subtle as a brick, and left your phone on your desk when you were doing break duty today.” He paused to enjoy the frustration on his best friends face because he couldn’t go after him. He flashed a winning smile to the nurse before he left. “He’ll obviously protest, but I think you should make his cast red. It’ll make him look cheery.” He closed the curtain as he left, before doubling back to offer one last shot at Grantaire. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

 

“How can I? When you’re taking all the stupid with you!” Grantaire called after him, lamenting the fact he had to stay still for at least an hour whilst the plaster set, really Feuilly was the worst best friend a man could ask for.

 

“You’re a punk.”

 

“Jerk.” Grantaire returned with a smile. “A jerk who I can’t believe quoted Captain America at me. Go, tell Enjolras that I broke my foot. I’m sure Melody would love to hear how her teacher is a massive man-child. But apparently Enjolras finds it charming.”

Feuilly nodded, as he went to unlock Grantaire’s phone. “Yeah I can see that, he’s left you six messages already. Don’t worry I’ll reply to him for you!”

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

 **Don’t Panic.** Was the first thing that Enjolras saw when he unlocked his phone after Bahorel had made sure Melody was getting ready for bed. **R is in the hospital; he broke his foot.** Was the second message that followed. **This is Feuilly btw, in case you hadn’t guessed.**

_How did he manage to break his foot?_ Enjolras tapped out a reply, as he made his way around the kitchen tidying up from their earlier dinner. _Oh and obviously how is he?_  Enjolras sighed to himself, putting all the dishes from earlier in the dishwasher. He had wondered why Grantaire had maintained radio silence for the last two hours, although how a grown man can break his foot in two hours Enjolras would like to know. Grantaire mentioned to him that he had a varied catalogue of extra-curricular activities he could have broken it doing something like that, maybe.

 

 **He broke it jumping across our living room to get the door because he was playing The Floor is Lava.** That was that then, Enjolras chuckled to himself as Bahorel walked through the kitchen door. “What’s up Blondie?” Bahorel asked, reaching into the fridge to grab a beer. “Are you texting loverboy again?”

 

“Grantaire is a friend, not my lover.” Enjolras replied in a tone that reflected how many times he had repeated the same sentence over and over again to Bahorel, not that he had paid attention to it. “And for your information, I’m texting Feuilly. Grantaire is indisposed.”

 

“Sometimes I forget you’re only in your early twenties, you talk like my Grandmother.” Bahorel teased, taking a swig from his beer. “What do you mean indisposed? Has Feuilly smothered him or something?”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Feuilly said he’s broke his foot, so he’s in the hospital, getting a cast I think.”

 

Bahorel frowned. “How the fuck has he managed to break his foot?”

 

“Doing something that I’ve told you not to do a million times actually.” Enjolras said, his voice light as he grabbed a beer for himself. “You’d think a twenty-six year old man who is in charge of over twenty small children on a daily basis would take more care of himself, but no. Grantaire broke his foot jumping across furniture to go and answer the door for a pizza.”

 

“What a noble way to break a bone!” Bahorel laughed, saluting Enjolras with his beer. “Give him my what ever ‘grownups’ say to one another, regards isnt’ it?  will you, I’ll send pizza to him in the hospital. Feuilly would probably get a kick from that too.”

 

 _Tell him he’s an idiot from me please._ Enjolras typed out, rolling his eyes at his friends lack of subtlety about a certain ginger he had a crush on. _Bahorel thinks he’s hilarious, he said hi._ “You know Baz, you could always ask Feuilly for his number, I’m pretty sure he’ll give it to you. If you asked him nicely.”

 

“And I’ve told you, he’s not interested in me!”

 

“And I’m not a natural blonde.” Enjolras said under his breath, moving past Bahorel into the living room.

 

* * *

* * *

 

By the time Feuilly returned to Grantaire’s cubicle, he was laden with a large cup of coffee, a muffin and an obnoxiously large bunch of flowers to at least raise a smile on his currently bed-ridden best friend. “No thanks to you I had to amuse myself with a trashy magazine.” Grantaire grumbled as a greeting, flicking over the page with irritation. “But you’d be pleased to know I’ve caught up on the Kardashian drama. Feu, why do you have flowers? Am I dying?”

 

Feuilly rolled his eyes and passed Grantaire his mobile phone. “I do apologise that I took your phone.” He began, taking a seat by Grantaire’s bed. “I brought you flowers because that’s what you do when your best friend is in hospital.”

 

“I’m allowed to go home in an hour, not really a cause for flowers my weird ginger friend.” Grantaire regarded him with suspicion as he leaned over to pick the flowers from Feuilly’s hands. “People only get flowers when you’ve done something wrong… What did you do Feuilly?”

 

Feuilly at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. “I may have told Enjolras and Bahorel about how you broke your foot.”

 

Grantaire reached to whack Feuilly with his magazine. “I figured you might.” He chuckled as Feuilly rubbed his head. “Did Ser Loras have anything to say? I assume he did.”

 

“Ser Loras?”

 

“Game of Thrones, you really should have watched it by now.” Grantaire explained slowly, as if he was talking to one of the children in his class. “We’re on to season six now Feuilly. There’s really no excuse.” Feuilly glared at him. “What did Enjolras have to say? Laughing at my misery?”

 

“He actually said you were an idiot, and ‘Rel said you were hilarious.” Feuilly returned, taking a sip from his coffee. “But feel free to text him yourself. You really should change your pin code to your phone by the way, that way I wouldn’t be able to unlock your phone and text your boyfriend.”

 

“Enjolras is not my boyfriend Feuilly.” Grantaire unlocked his phone to read the conversation with Enjolras. “We’re friends, besides I’ve only known him a week. If you’re going to go on about this again, I’ll talk about your big fat thing for Bahorel. Can you please go and check for the nurse to sign me out with crutches? I want to go home.”

 

“As you wish.” Feuilly said, dramatically bowing out of the cubical, earning an amused snort from Grantaire.

 

 **I’m sorry about Feuilly earlier. I did break my foot playing lava, feel free to laugh at my expense. Feu will.** Grantaire sent the message, thinking it would take long for Enjolras to reply, it was nearing eleven and Grantaire assumed that Enjolras wouldn’t respond. But he was wrong.

_So I heard, I can’t believe you broke your foot that way. Are you okay though? Do you need anything?_ “Bless him.” Grantaire muttered aloud before he could stop himself, grateful that Feuilly wasn’t around to witness his slip up, trust Enjolras to be a mother hen about it.

 

 **I’m fine. Going to be out of commission for a while though. Feuilly will be in charge of everything until I can at least use crutches. So a week of bed rest for me it is! Thank fuck for Netflix.** Grantaire breathed a sigh of relief when a familiar shock of red hair peaked back through the curtain of his cubicle. “Your Chariot awaits” Feuilly said with a smile, that didn’t wither as Grantaire glared at him. “I’ve also got crutches for you, and a rather fetching boot to put on your cast so you can actually walk on it. Don’t you feel special?”

 

“Fuck off Feuilly.” Grantaire retorted, as he swung his body around on the bed, and pocketed his phone. “You’re not allowed to poke fun at the man with the broken foot.”

 

“You’re my best friend, and broke it leaping across the sofa.”  Feuilly teased, helping Grantaire into the wheel chair. “I’m allowed to poke fun of you a little. You know you’d do the same in my position. Although, I am not one to play lava in the living room.”

 

“But you did break your wrist playing air hockey when we were at university, and I don’t see me bringing it up” Grantaire quipped, as Feuilly wrapped the boot around Grantaire’s cast. “But I’m a nice person. Not a ginger asshole.”

 

Feuilly’s eyes flicked up to Grantaire’s in a silent challenge. “You might not want to piss off the guy driving you home ‘taire. I mean I could accidentally push you down a flight of stairs and you can break your other foot. Then I’ll take over your class permanently, and not just for the few days as Emperor Feuilly. “

 

Grantaire snorted, shaking his head as his phone vibrated in his pocket. _Do you need any recommendations? B said watch iZombie or the Flash. Although I don’t think Flash is on Netflix. Oh also there’s this thing called Reign, you’d probably like the costumes._

“Is your plan to secretly off me so you can take over my class?” Grantaire said, glancing up at Feuilly as he signed the paperwork the nurse gave him so that he was free to leave. She also handed him a bag of painkillers, so that he could continue to manage the pain in his foot and potentially return to work within a week if he takes it easy.

 

It took until they were outside before Feuilly was able to reply to him. “You got me, by the way.” He whispered in Grantaire’s ear as they moved to leave the hospital to a waiting taxi. “Making you break your foot to steal your class? All part of my master plan.”

 

“You wound me Feu.” Grantaire gasped dramatically, holding his chest. “Trying to off me, and taking over my life. You dick. Go take the wheel chair back, it’s not as if I can go anywhere.” He gave the taxi driver their address before Feuilly returned, typing out a quick reply to Enjolras. **I was planning on binging s2 of iZombie anyway. Of course I’ve seen the Flash, I mean you’ve seen the guy who plays Barry right? I watched him in Glee, so naturally I watched the flash. Tell B thanks for the rec though, I may have to watch that reign thing.**

“If you’re done texting your boyfriend?” Feuilly slid into the taxi beside Grantaire, being careful not to jostle his foot. “Can we get home now?” Grantaire just rolled his eyes at Feuilly, and looked at his phone which had yet to get a reply from Enjolras.

 

Their journey home was silent and comfortable, given that both Grantaire and Feuilly were both exhausted by their time in the hospital. The biggest challenge that they faced was maneuvering around Grantaire’s broken foot, a set of crutches, a bag, bunch of flowers, painkillers and their house keys as they struggled through the front door. Feuilly helped Grantaire into his room, and set about making him a round of toast because as much as Grantaire teased him, Feuilly was a gift from God in the best friend/ platonic soulmate/roommate lottery, and Grantaire praised whatever god there was that he had Feuilly in his life. Or maybe that was the morphine tablets talking.

_B said you’re welcome. Do you need anything? I can pop round if you do. Let me know? Please?_

**Actually, there is something I need. But maybe its more something for ‘Rel to do. I’ll call you in the morn. Painkillers are kicking in. Thank duck for auto correct! Night x**

 

 

 

 

 


	7. The Scientific Method

The favour that Grantaire asked of Enjolras reared its head three days later. Grantaire and Feuilly had organised a trip to their nearest forest as part of their science project for the term, over the term it had morphed into an overnight camping trip with twenty children under the age of ten, but due to Grantaire’s recent injury, the whole trip was threatened. Luckily between Grantaire playing his ‘woe is me card’, the prospect of spending a whole day with Feuilly on his own, and the sheer stubbornness of an eight-year-old girl Bahorel found himself agreeing to help Chaperone the trip, given his clear background check and willingness to fill in last minute, and dreading spending the evening in the woods with the current object of his desire. He was going to kill Enjolras, if a wolf didn’t eat him first.

 

Being awake before ten on a Friday and surrounded by twenty small children, was Bahorel’s idea of hell, especially when Enjolras decided to drink all the coffee. Fridays were his sacred day of rest, but Grantaire had to break his foot and landed Bahorel in a place where he had to step in to not have to deal with Melody’s disappointed face if the trip was indeed cancelled. At least he wasn’t going to be completely alone with Feuilly. Feuilly had met him at the school reception, dressed in camping gear, looking unfairly attractive even in slacks and a fleece, looking fresh faced and too enthusiastic for an un-caffeinated Bahorel.

 

He was then introduced to the other two adults who would accompany himself and Feuilly on their woodland trip, Eponine and Cosette. Cosette was first to greet him, jumping up from her seat in the staff room with a bright smile and a warm greeting. “Hello!” Cosette said, embracing him in a hug with surprising force for a woman half Bahorel’s size. “I’m Cosette, or Miss F to the children. I teach PE, and art.”

 

Bahorel nodded, as he pulled away looking to the other woman beside her. “I’m Bahorel, Melody is my daughter. I’m a lawyer, but I specialise in family law.”

 

“Eponine.” The taller brunette woman said, before Bahorel could ask. “The kids call me Miss T. I teach Music, and dance. ‘taire told us you were covering his stupid ass, so thanks. Please tell me you’re a normal person, and won’t be as enthusiastic as our ginger Bear Grylls, about spending the night in a tent?”

 

“It’s the part I’m dreading the most. The only tents I like are part of an elaborate blanket fort and surrounded by pillows. I think I nearly cried when I was looking for tents yesterday.” He laughed, thinking back to the shopping trip he had with Melody yesterday. “Mels is enthusiastic as heck about this trip though. She slept in her tent and sleeping bag last night, sometimes I wonder if she’s my daughter.”

 

“She’s definitely your daughter.” Feuilly called from the door of the staffroom, causing Bahorel to jump and blush a little. “C’mon ‘Rel. Melody is literally vibrating with excitement about camping with her daddy, so I could use your help wrangling the small people whilst Ep and Cosette get some of the gear on the coach, and our packed lunches.”

 

“I think I could be better at heavy lifting than wrangling kids.”  Bahorel offered, looking to Cosette and Eponine before back to Feuilly’s pleading gaze.

 

“Nonsense!” Cosette chirped, pushing Bahorel back towards the door. “Ep and I have it covered, go and have fun with Feuilly and the kids. I’ll see you on the bus!”

 

Bahorel followed Feuilly into the classroom, and was met by a wall of sound. The desks in the classroom were pushed to one side, with a variety of coats piled on top of them, and every child sat around the large white board where Feuilly had set a movie playing, knowing that none of the class would pay attention to work knowing that they were going on a trip in two hours. Melody jumped up from her positon cross-legged on the floor to jump up and hug her father. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, jumping into his arms. “You came! Mr. F said you were cos of Mr. R”

 

“Mels honey, you knew I was coming when papa dropped you at school because I had to go pick up our tents.” Bahorel chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. “But yes I’m here. Are you ready for our camping trip?”

 

Melody nodded enthusiastically, her brown curls shaking on her head. “Yup!” She answered, hugging Bahorel again. “I’m sad Mr. R isn’t coming, but I’m glad you’re coming. I hope Mr. R is okay though, without Mr. F.”

 

“I think your papa agreed to look in on him whilst we were away tonight, Mels.” Bahorel said, as he gave her one more squeeze and gently pushed her back to the rest of her class. “But sweetie, you know I’m going to have to help Mr. F look after the boys today, so you may have to stay with Miss F, and Miss T.”

 

Melody pouted at her father and went to rejoin the rest of her class as Feuilly clapped his hands to grab their attention. “Class!” he exclaimed, waiting for silence to fall in the classroom. He stood beside Bahorel and clapped him on the shoulder. “This is Mr. B. He’s very kindly filling in for Mr. R since he isn’t well enough to come camping with us. But he should be back at school next week. He is Melody’s dad, if she hadn’t mentioned it yet” He looked over to Melody who looked a little sheepish. “So he’s super experienced in helping with stories, and should have a few for us around the campfire tonight. Right Mr. B?”

“Sure thing Mr. F” Bahorel replied, his mind working a mile-a-minute to think of stories to tell that night.

 

“Excellent.” Feuilly grinned at him, his hand still on Bahorel’s shoulder. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes, so everyone needs to go to the bathroom and find their travel buddy. I’ve got my travel buddy, sorry Melody.” He pulled away slightly from Bahorel, before he noticed Bahorel’s full body shiver at Feuilly’s proximity to him. “Chop Chop. We’ve got a picnic lunch planned for twelve thirty, by the river. So we best get going. Quick Sticks!”

 

“Quick Sticks?” Bahorel whispered to Feuilly as the class moved to go to the bathroom, leaving them alone again.

 

“Something my gran always said to me.” Feuilly shrugged, leaning against his desk. “Are you okay with being my travel buddy ‘Rel? We’ve had the buddy system all year and it makes things much easier to deal with…”

 

“It’s fine Feu.” Bahorel reassured him, patting his arm. “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I wasn’t fine with this. Although I’d equally have liked to hear your report of Enjolras in the woods, let’s be real. Do you think Grantaire will be fine with Enjolras tonight?”

 

“Well I’ve not actually told Grantaire that Enjolras is coming over.” Feuilly admitted, giving Bahorel an innocent look. “I thought he could do with the company, and the surprise. I spoke to Enjolras when he dropped Melody off this morning, I think ‘taire is still asleep. He’s got some pretty intense pain killers. Although watching him try and hobble around the apartment is flipping hilarious.”

 

“Why Mr. F. You devious little….” Bahorel looked around for little ears, and saw they were still alone. “Shit.”

 

“Grantaire tries to say that to everyone, but apparently I look to innocent to be devious.” Feuilly laughed, pushing himself up off of the large wooden desk. “We best go and grab the children and get to the coach. Otherwise Cosette and Eponine may skin us alive leaving them alone with my group of miscreants. They’re fine for me and Grantaire, because we’ve got them trained. Leave them alone with anyone new, and they’re prone to act up. Hence why I’m still at school, when Grantaire is suffering from his own stupidity.”

 

Bahorel nodded, as he went to follow Feuilly out of the classroom. “You’re the boss. Mr. F.” he said, saluting Feuilly and helping him navigate the class into the coach in a neat line of two by two. Melody grabbed her father for another quick hug before she joined the rest of the class, allowing Feuilly to tick everyone off of his very official looking clip board. “You ready Boss?” he quipped as he boarded the coach before Feuilly and took his seat at the front of the bus.

 

Feuilly levelled him with a sharp look. “You can keep calling me Boss if you’d like ‘Rel. But I’ll probably punish you for it later.”

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Feuilly.” Bahorel quipped before he could stop himself. Feuilly’s eyes widened as he picked up on the double meaning in Bahorel’s words. This was going to be an awkward hour for the pair of them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick message to Enjolras _I think I’m going to kill you and Grantaire. Sleep with one eye open._

__

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Grantaire awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door, something he wasn’t expecting since Feuilly was away for the weekend on their annual class camping trip. It was one of Grantaire’s highlights of the year, and he was upset that he was missing it, especially since it was his own stupid fault.  He was grateful that Feuilly had fed the cats before he had left for school that morning, so by the time Grantaire got up around noon he was less likely to be eaten alive by his feline friends.

 

Grantaire groaned as he heard someone bang on the door again, that would mean he would definitely have to get up. “Fuck.” He cursed, swinging his leg over the end of the bed and jarring his cast. He sleepily slipped his foot into the boot that the hospital had given him so he could at least hobble to the door without his crutches, something that he hadn’t quite mastered yet. But at least he had the weekend to prepare for his return to work next week.

 

Grantaire dragged himself to the door, and flung it open ready to shout at the impatient person behind the door. The words failed on his tongue when he saw the person who had been knocking on the door. Stood opposite him was Enjolras, holding a paper bag as a peace offering. “Hey.” He said with a smile. “Feuilly told me to swing by with something for you to eat.” He explained, indicating the bag. “I saw him this morning when I dropped Melody at school. I hope you don’t mind?”

 

As soon as Grantaire recovered from the shock of seeing Enjolras on the other side of the door, his heart fluttered at the prospect of spending time with Enjolras. He really did owe Feuilly for being the best platonic life partner a man could ask for. “Enjolras.” He said finally, remembering that he hadn’t spoken in a while. “Sorry I’m still half asleep, I’m still sixty percent sure I’m hallucinating, but the smell of that Chinese food is driving me insane. Come in. I’m being rude. Did you take the day off to check on me? I’m touched.”

 

Enjolras coloured a little, which Grantaire found endearing. “I swapped shifts with Courfeyrac, so he’s working today and I’m working on call for Sunday.” He admitted, moving around Grantaire to place the bag of food on the table. “Besides, I kind of don’t want to go back to an empty house. I spent an hour at home, then I had to go out.” He started unpacking boxes and placing them around the table. “Feuilly told me what to get, but I forgot. So there’s a few different things to choose from. Lemon Chicken, Chow Mein, Fried Rice, Spring Rolls, Egg Rolls…”

 

Grantaire smiled at Enjolras’ rambling, and pressed a hand to Enjolras’ arm. “Enj, its okay.” Grantaire assured him, as Enjolras paused his emptying of the bag of food. “Can you grab us some plates, they’re above the sink, and forks are in the drawer beside the fridge. Let me sort the food out. I’m sure somewhere in this insane amount of food I’ll eat something. I’m a cheap date like that.”  Grantaire blushed when he realised what he said, and tried to correct himself. “I mean not that it’s a date or…”

 

“It could be?” Enjolras offered, as he busied himself in the kitchen, not daring to look at Grantaire. “I mean I was going to ask you out… But I didn’t want to assume anything.”

 

Grantaire couldn’t help the grin that formed when Enjolras spoke. “You were going to ask me out?” he teased, hobbling over to Enjolras in the kitchen. “One trip to ikea and some nerdy texting got you hot and bothered did it?”

 

Enjolras turned in surprise as Grantaire spoke, almost knocking a wobbly Grantaire off of his feet. Their standing position didn’t last for long, as one of the cats decided to announce their presence in the kitchen making Enjolras lose his grip on the counter in fright and pull Grantaire to the floor with him. They landed with a thud, and Enjolras found himself trapped underneath Grantaire. “Well.” He said, a little breathlessly. “It wasn’t my intention to knock you off of your feet quite this early, but I’ll go with it.” Enjolras’ gaze dropped to Grantaire’s lips, as he licked them. “Is it too cliché for me to want to kiss you right now?”

 

Grantaire shook his head, a little dazed from the proximity of Enjolras. “Cliché’s are so underrated, but all being fair. I’d rather not have our first kiss on my kitchen floor.” He chuckled, rolling off of Enjolras. “My foot was in the cat’s water bowl. Hardly romantic…”

 

Enjolras laughed, as he helped Grantaire to his feet, his arms wrapping around Grantaire’s body to hold him still. “Am I okay to kiss you now?” he asked, his gaze flickering down to Grantaire’s lips. “Unless you want to dry your foot off first?”

 

“Shut up.” Grantaire laughed, as he pulled Enjolras to him closing the distance between them. The kiss was soft at first, as both of them were nervous, but soon found a rhythm in the kiss that caused Grantaire to shiver in Enjolras’ embrace. “Well that wasn’t how I saw my day going.” Grantaire quipped as they broke apart. “Its way better.” He added, as he saw Enjolras’ unsure expression.

 

Enjolras blushed again, and Grantaire found that he rather liked red on Enjolras. “It wasn’t how I would’ve thought coming over for Chinese food would go either.” He said, smiling at Grantaire as he helped him towards the kitchen table. “I’m not complaining, at all though. Lets eat, okay? Otherwise I’m going to keep blushing again, and I’m kind of hungry now.”

 

“Hungry for me?” teased Grantaire, before he could help himself, causing Enjolras to flush again.

 

“Unless you changed your name to Egg Rolls in the last ten minutes, I’m going to go with no.” Enjolras returned sarcastically, sitting down at the table. He jumped when a large fluffy cat jumped on him, different to the one that interrupted them earlier. “How many cats do you have?”

 

“Marshmallow, get down.” Grantaire said, swatting at the cat who was making her home on Enjolras’ lap. “We have three. Marshmallow is the one on your lap, then we have Crookshanks, the ginger one who interrupted us before. And then Minerva is somewhere, probably outside. She loves Feuilly more than me anyway. You can see why she’s called Marshmallow, cos of the fluff. Very original.”

 

“And then two fictional characters?” Enjolras teased, scratching Marshmallow behind the ears. “That’s original.”

 

“Don’t you curse Minerva McGonagall Enj, she’s a sacred literary character.” Grantaire said through a mouthful of spring roll. “She’s the best character in the books and the movies. And what else would I call a ginger cat other than Crookshanks. I teach small children, it’s a given that I’ve read and loved the Harry Potter books. C’mon.”

 

Enjolras held his hands up in defense, causing Marshmallow to jump off of his lap. “I’m sorry I questioned your taste in fictional characters. ‘Rel always wanted a dog to call him Sirius. If we were home more, than it would have been possible. Although I don’t think I could have lived with the puns. They’d have gotten old fast.”

 

“Siriusly, you missed up that opportunity.” Grantaire grinned, dodging the prawn cracker Enjolras threw at his head. “You need to siriusly work on your aim.”

 

“You need to siriusly shut the fuck up if you expect me to kiss you again.” Enjolras raised his eyebrow in a challenge to Grantaire who was still grinning at him.

 

“You wouldn’t Siriusly follow through on such an empty threat.”

 

“And why is that ‘taire?” questioned Enjolras, piling noodles onto his plate. “Why is it an empty threat?”

 

Grantaire took a while to respond, winding noodles around his fork and eating them. “Its an empty threat.” He began, taking another mouthful of noodles. “I’m wondering how far your blush goes down your body, and how long it would take me to test that theory out. And if I’m allowed to make repeat experiments.” Grantaire was rewarded with Enjolras blushing again, much to his delight. “But obviously after the food right? We wouldn’t want it to get cold, Enjolras.”

 

Enjolras swallowed, his face still red from Grantaire’s words, was momentarily distracted as his phone vibrated on the table. It was Bahorel. “’Rel said he wants to kill us both.” He commented, his eyes skimming the text message. “I assume that’s because we arranged for him to spend twenty-four hours with Feuilly.”

 

“It could be because I also told Eponine to ‘forget Bahorel’s tent’ so he would have to share with Feu, I can’t wait to see how that pans out.” Grantaire said, between bites of noodles. “I mean he probably hasn’t realised that yet, but I can imagine he’d hate us for that too.”

 

 **You’re going to kill us? Melody will mourn Grantaire and my death, and give you hell. Have fun with Feuilly.** Enjolras typed out, putting his phone back on the table and pushing his plate away from him. “But if ‘Rel is going to kill us….” He mentioned, the heat behind his gaze failing to make his casualness. “Maybe we should try your experiment and seeing if I can do a full body blush.”

 

Grantaire choked on his food, causing him to cough at Enjolras’ words. After he regained his composure, his eyes dragged up and down Enjolras’ lean body which looked sinfully inviting in his tight shirt and jeans. “I could be open to a little scientific experiment. Although I may need a little help to get somewhere horizontal.”

 

“That can be arranged”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I got a new chapter up in three days! This is to make up for the gap between 5 & 6\. Comments are always welcome.


	8. Pole-ar opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel hates his life, and all his friends are dicks.

Nature, Bahorel decided was definitely out to kill him. Since leaving school four hours ago, he had stepped in a puddle, fell into a patch of nettles, a bird had shit on his head, and Feuilly that rat bastard, laughed at him. And now, the tent, that the lovely sales assistant assured him would be ‘easy to put up’ and yet here he was struggling with tent poles as Cosette and Eponine watched him.

 

“A little help?” he asked, as the peanut gallery started to laugh at him again. “You could do something other than laughing at me you f-“

 

“Language” Eponine reminded him, hiding her grin behind her hand again.

 

“FLIPPING awful people.” Bahorel amended as his tent collapsed around him for a third time. “Why is this so hard?” he whined, sitting in a pile on the grass. “The kids all have their tents up, and yet here I am. How am I this useless?”

 

“Maybe because you’d just ask your tall handsome blonde to put it up for you, whilst you go and entertain that daughter of yours?” Cosette offered as Bahorel scowled at her. “Melody managed to put hers up.”

 

“How does it feel to be bested by your eight-year-old daughter?” Eponine teased, her eyes flicking over to Feuilly who was trying to gather the children together and delegate activities. “Tell you what, we’ll take over from Feuilly and send him over to help you. How does that sound?”

 

Bahorel flushed, looking at the mess around him. If he couldn’t fix it himself, how was sending Feuilly over to help him going to make any difference? He was going to kill Grantaire for breaking his foot, and Enjolras for volunteering him for this trip into hell. He fought to flip Feuilly off as he watched the ginger man approach him looking far too happy for being in the woods. “Ep said you need help?” Feuilly called to him as he walked closer.

 

“Eponine knows nothing.” Bahorel replied grumpily, frowning up at Feuilly from his heap on the floor.

 

“Alright there Jon Snow.” Feuilly laughed, offering his hand to Bahorel to pull him to his feet. “I’m offering my tent building skills, and you're being grumpy. How about we do it together?”

 

“Whilst doing it together sounds like my idea of a good time on a Friday night…” Bahorel began, not looking at Feuilly. “I think I’d rather you give me a hand to stick this tent together so I’m not sleeping under the stars, because knowing my luck it would rain.”

 

Feuilly’s cheeks coloured after Bahorel twisted his words. “Can you get all the tent poles out and let me see where you’ve went wrong? It looks like a complete mess.”

 

Bahorel huffed as he pulled the poles from the mess of tarp and a ground sheet that he had managed to arrange. “These are all I have.” He said, as Feuilly inspected the bundle of long silver poles Bahorel had placed by his feet. I can get the structure sort of sorted, but then the whole thing just collapses on me. I don’t know where I went wrong.”

 

“Are you sure that’s everything?” Feuilly asked, looking at the poles again as Bahorel nodded. “Well no wonder your tent didn’t stay up.”

 

“What you do mean Feu?” he returned, pulling his ground sheet from the pile and folding it up. “That’s the same bag I picked up this morning, everything was in it when I bought it yesterday.”

 

“Well you’re missing the main tent pole.” Feuilly pointed out, fishing the tent instructions from Bahorel’s pile on the floor. “See this long pole here?” he indicated the part on the diagram. “Its not here, so either you were super f-ing unlucky. Or someone tampered with your tent.”

 

“Who would do…. I’m going to fucking kill Enjolras.” Bahorel growled, his voice low enough for only Feuilly to hear. “Why would he do that? Urgh what a douche.”

 

“I’m sure you just got unlucky Baz.” Feuilly assured him, patting his arm awkwardly. “Look it’s not the end of the world, you can share with me tonight. I have a four-man tent. Which is more than enough room for the both of us. I’m not going to make you sleep alone in the woods. Grab your stuff, c’mon B. Then we can roast some marshmallows and stuff when the sun goes down. I’ve been warned about your sweet tooth.” He teased, helping Bahorel pack his tent up. “And don’t tell anyone but I’ve got whiskey for Irish hot chocolates too when the kids are asleep.”

 

“S’Mores and alcohol?” Bahorel smiled, as he grabbed his things and went to put them in Feuilly’s perfectly erected tent. “A man after my own heart.”

 

“Well” Feuilly said with a wide grin. “I’ve been informed the way to a man’s heart is through booze and chocolate. That’s pretty much how Grantaire and I became best friends. He made a Guiness Chocolate cake, and that’s how I’m still attached to that pain in the ass, six years later.”

 

“Guinness and chocolate?”

 

“Trust me.”  Feuilly said with a faux seriousness, grabbing the rest of Bahorel’s failed attempt to erect his tent. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Grantaire’s Guinness and Chocolate cake. I’ll get him to make it for your birthday. You won’t be disappointed in it.”

 

Bahorel laughed, as he moved his final pieces of luggage to Feuillys large tent.  He fished his phone from his pocket seeing that he had a message from Enjolras he went to type out a reply. “Hey Feu. I’m gonna set my bed up. I’ll be out in a minute. I’m gonna check in with Enj and see if he’s having fun with Grantaire. I won’t be long.” Feuilly nodded and left Bahorel too it.

 

_I hate you so much._

**And why is that?**

_Because you tampered with my tent, and now I have to share with Feuilly. IN HIS TENT._

**Why are you complaining? YOU want to bone him. You two are very in-tents about that. R agrees.**

_And why are you asking Grantaire his opinion?_

**Because it was his idea to take the pole out of your bag, And he’s like right here.**

Bahorel frowned, as he re-read Enjolras’ message. He didn’t expect for Enjolras and Grantaire to still be together several hours later. Maybe they were just watching a movie together, or that Enjolras had got there later than he expected. What he wasn’t expecting was a slightly blurry picture of a topless Grantaire to come through to his phone only a minute later.

 

_Why is Grantaire half-naked and on your phone Enjolras? Is there something you’re not telling me._

**We got a bit hot, so Grantaire took off his shirt. You know, as you do.**

* * *

* * *

 

“As you do?” Grantaire teased, his fingers digging into Enjolras’ side, as they lay together. “You’re making me sound easy Enj. I won’t stand for it.”

 

“Please.” Enjolras scoffed, wriggling away from Grantaire’s fingers. “You can’t stand properly anyway, given your adventures with playing lava and breaking your foot.” He grinned, pressing another kiss to Grantaire’s lips. “I wonder how Bahorel is going to react to us.”

 

“I’m more worried about Melody.” Grantaire admitted quietly, dropping his gaze from Enjolras’ even though they were still wrapped around each other on the sofa. “Bahorel is a grown man he’ll forget about it if he pulled his finger out of his ass and admit he and Feuilly would be good together.

 

Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s chest, making sure that the darker haired man was looking at him. “Melody will freak out when she finds out, but in a good way. She adores you. And she’ll be equally as pleased about Bahorel and Feuilly if that ever happens.”

 

“Well considering you tampered with his tent, so he and Feuilly would have to share, which was genius by the way, well done.” Grantaire laughed, his fingers carding through Enjolras’ hair as he rested his head on Grantaire’s chest again. “I hope it at least moves them a little further forward in the ‘We like each other, lets date’ because I don’t think I can deal with the whole…” he dropped his voice a little as in impression of Feuilly’s voice. “Oh god Taire he doesn’t like me, he’s with Enjolras, yeah he’s hot, but he’s not into me. Woe is me.”

 

Enjolras snorted inelegantly, shaking his head and pushing himself up from Grantaire’s chest again. “Yeah ‘Rel isn’t much better. Oh look he’s replied to my text. What shall we reply?”

 

_What the fuck Enjolras? Weren’t he and Feuilly together? R is fucking around on Feuilly? Not cool._

Enjolras rolled his eyes and flipped his camera to selfie mode, quickly snapping a picture of him and Grantaire kissing. “He’s such an idiot.” He said, kissing Grantaire again for his own guilty pleasure.

“Hey I’m not going to complain about kissing your wonderful face.” Grantaire grinned, stealing another kiss from Enjolras. “I mean if the kissing is this good, I am definitely looking forward to the rest of it. I mean if we’re being totally honest with each other…?”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I thought about getting down on my knees and blowing you during parents evening.” Grantaire continued, with a faux innocent tone. “I mean you strode in all lawyerly and sexy and everything and hey I’m only human. I only resisted because I’m such a professional.”

 

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh at Grantaire, something he found like he had been doing ever since they’d started talking properly. “Such a professional.” He teased, brandishing his phone in Grantaire’s face again. “What should I reply?”

 

Grantaire paused looking at the picture Enjolras had took of them. They looked good together he mused, sending the picture to himself first. He could do with a new lockscreen. “How about, ‘This is what happens when you tell someone you like you’re single.’”

 

“Perfect!”

 

**This is what happens when you tell someone you like you’re actually single. Beard burn is a fun addition.**

* * *

* * *

 

Courfeyrac was tired, especially given that h hadn’t had a day off this week so that Bahorel could go on the class camping trip for Melody, and Enjolras could go and play sexy nurse for Grantaire, as much as he protested it earlier, Courfeyrac knew Enjolras, and could read his attraction to Grantaire all over his face.  What he was grateful for was finishing before six, and being able to go home to see Combeferre, and make the most of not having to have to deal with a last minute baby-sitting emergency, as much as they both adored Melody, an eight-year-old who is biologically Bahorel’s and raised by Enjolras is more than enough for a couple to handle.

 

Pushing open the door after unlocking the front door Courfeyrac was greeted by cloud of heady aroma coming from the kitchen. He loved when Combeferre got home before he did because that always meant that his boyfriend would be making some elaborate dish that his mum had taught him, and that made Courfeyrac’s mouth water when he smelt it. “Hey babe?” he called out, hanging his coat by the door, and kicking off his shoes. “Whatcha cooking?” he asked, walking up behind Combeferre and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It smells delicious.”

 

Combeferre leaned into Courfeyrac’s embrace, even though Courfeyrac was a few inches shorter than him, it still made him feel warm and fuzzy when they cuddled like this. “Its Goan fish curry.” He answered giving the pan a stir again. “I saw the recipe online, and thought I’d give it a try. Its sweet, not too spicy. I’m also making sticky rice.” He turned and pressed his lips to Courfeyrac’s. “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Can you check my phone; it’s been buzzing for the last half an hour? Its doing my head in. It’s either going to be Enjolras or Bahorel.”

 

“Sure thing babe.” Courfeyrac returned, pressing their lips together again.

 

Combeferre sighed, and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “What have I said about calling me babe?”

 

“That I’m supposed to do it all the time and you love it very much.” Courfeyrac quipped, as he dodged the towel Combeferre through at him.

 

“That every time you call me babe it reduces your chances of sex tonight!” Combeferre shouted as Courfeyrac laughed at him from the safety of their bedroom. Sure enough he found Combeferre’s phone charging on his night stand, lit up with several messages. Most of them seemed to be from Bahorel.

 

**Ferre. Help Me.**

**Ferre. Enjolras stole my tent pole so I have to share with Feuilly.**

**I don’t want to share with Feuilly because he’s too sexy.**

**Ferre. Enj is hooking up with Grantaire and I have to SHARE A TENT WITH FEUILLY. Help me Obi-Ferre-Kenobi you’re my only hope.**

Courfeyrac sighed, as he unlocked Combeferre’s phone to type out a reply to Bahorel. “So dramatic.” He sighed, stripping off his shirt and smart trousers, to look for something more comfortable. Courfeyrac had become so used to multi-tasking whilst texting he barely had to glance at the screen as he typed out a reply to Bahorel.

 

Patience young skywalker, you will be able to control your manly urges around the hot ginger man. Ferre is cooking, so you’ve got my wonderful advice for the next five minutes. Hit me. 

**Courf?**

Who else would have Ferre’s phone dumbass? Why are you freaking out about Enj and R? and being close the ginger snap of your dreams?

**Cos I’m on a class trip with small people who include my daughter.**

Hey B, how does it feel knowing Enjolras will be getting laid before you?

**Go fuck yourself Courf**

Hey, I have a boyfriend for that. He’s wonderful at it actually. 

**I hate you so much.**

No you don’t. Every body loves me 

**Go back to your bf, he’s more help than you. Tell him I hate him for not answering his phone. Bye Courf.**

Don’t re-enact scenes from Brokeback Mountain, you know stuff went down in the tent. When two guys who really like each other…. 

**Bye Courf.**

Courfeyrac laughed at Bahorel’s response, throwing his dirty work clothes in the basket Combeferre insisted they used so they wouldn’t be tripping over dirty laundry every night. Of course it wasn’t always used especially when they were too busy pulling clothes off of one another, but Courfeyrac tried hard to adhere to ‘House Rules’ because Combeferre was always more generous when he did.

 

“What took you so long Courf?” Combeferre asked him, as he left the bedroom and joined him again. “Dinner is ready. I thought you got lost.”

 

“’rel had a crisis.” Courfeyrac explained, grabbing the dish from the counter that Combeferre prepared and moving towards their unfairly comfortable sofa. “His crisis is that Enj and Grantaire got their shit together. And he has to share Feuilly’s tent on their camping trip thingy because Enj stole his pole or something.” He promptly stuffed his face with a large mouthful of food, so he wouldn’t have to answer Combeferre’s questions again.

 

Combeferre frowned, his eyebrows raised high above the dark frames of his glasses. “So he’s having a crisis because he’s got to spend more time with the man he wants to bone, shocking.”

 

Courfreyrac chuckled as Combeferre folded his long limbs underneath himself and joined him on the sofa. “’Rel hasn’t acknowledged that he wants to bone Feuilly. He’s into him, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He and Enjolras need to talk it out, especially if they’re going to get serious. This could be a total disaster.”

 

Combeferre moved his free hand to pet Courfeyrac’s thick curly hair. “Or it could be the greatest thing that ever happened to the four of them.” He pointed out, as Courfeyrac leaned into Combeferre’s embrace. “Mel loves both her dads, and we know she loves Grantaire and Feuilly. So that girl is going to be spoilt something rotten. ‘Rel will pull his head out of his ass, now that Enj and Grantaire are doing something about the whole pining thing, just give him a little time.”

 

Courfeyrac smiled up at his boyfriend, pressing their lips together and tasting the spices from Combeferre’s wonderful cooking. “How did you get so wise?”

 

“I believe it had something to do with you dressing as the Scarf of Sexual Preference for Halloween in our first year at university and declaring that I was Courfey-sexual.” Combeferre teased, kissing him again. “I mean you were the only person who got my avpm reference, so I was pretty smitten anyway.”

 

“Well I am pretty irresistible.” Courfeyrac agreed, placing his finished dish on their coffee table to give Combeferre his full attention. “As are you.” He hummed, wrapping his arms around Combeferre’s neck, and pulling him into an intense kiss.”

 

“Courf, I’m not having sex on the couch again.” Combeferre warned, as he kissed Courfeyrac lazily. “Last time we had to get it steam cleaned and…”

 

“Shhh.” Courfeyrac said, as he started to unbutton Combeferre’s sinfully professional shirt, even out of hours, Combeferre usually wore button down shirts. Mainly because he knew it drove Courfeyrac crazy, especially when pushed up his sleeves and revealed the intricate tattoos that he had on his forearms. They were the first thing that Courfeyrac had noticed, after admiring Combeferre from a distance in the library for a month, it had taken until Enjolras’ birthday party for them to meet completely.

 

“You’re the one who’s going to have to clean the sofa.” Combeferre warned him as Courfeyrac pressed heated kisses to his neck.

 

The night they met officially ended with Courfeyrac on his knees, taking Combeferre into his mouth and blowing his brains in the apartment that Combeferre shared with Enjolras. They hadn’t told him about it initially, keeping their relationship secret between them for a few weeks. Enjolras actually found out when he saw Courfeyrac exiting Combeferre’s room looking absolutely fucked. He handed Courfeyrac a cup of coffee and told him to sit.  They had talked for an hour before Combeferre woke up, to find that Courfeyrac hadn’t skipped out on him, but was in fact making himself and Enjolras a Spanish frittata and talking Enjolras’ ear off enthusiastically.

 

“All in good time Dr Combeferre.” Courfeyrac whispered, as he bucked his hips up to meet with Combeferre’s growing erection. He had forgone underwear when he had slipped into his sweats earlier, knowing that it would inevitably end in them doing this on the couch. The same thing that happened most days, except when they had company. Combeferre moaned and pressed Courfeyrac further into the cushions. “Fuck Ferre, keep that up and I’ll not last long.”

 

“Maybe if I put your cock in my mouth, you’ll stop calling me Doctor Combeferre in the bedroom.” Combeferre teased, as kissed his way down Courfeyrac’s lean body. “But then again, you’re never one to be quiet Counsellor Courfeyrac, who am I to complain.”

 

“If I’m not allowed to call you Doctor Ferre.” Courfeyrac gasped as Combeferre pushed down his sweatpants to free his already aching cock. “You’re certainly not allowed to call me Counsellor. Ah Ferre.” He whined, as Combeferre licked up his cock, teasing the head with his tongue.”

 

“Well I certainly wasn’t allowed to bend you over your lovely oak desk in your chambers either, but I did that.” Combeferre laughed, teasing Courfeyrac again. “But I did it anyway. And you were still in your black robes.”

 

“Combeferre I swear to god if you don’t but your mouth on me I will kill you.” Courfeyrac threatened, his eyes fluttering closed as Combeferre took him in his mouth and proceeded to suck his brains out through his cock. “Fuck me. Ferre you are far too good for me.”

 

Combeferre pulled off of Courfeyrac with a smirk. “Don’t sell yourself short babe, and all in good time, just lie back and think of France okay?”

 

“I fucking hate you so much.”


	9. Its getting intents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's took so long, but I thought I'd speed things up a little bit.

Bahorel knew realistically eating smores shouldn’t feel like a religious experience, but sitting across from Feuilly as he licked melted chocolate from his wrist, Bahorel felt like he should pray to whatever deity that exists that he doesn’t moan out loud, because seriously nobody would do that on accident Feuilly had to know right? Sitting beside your daughter, across from a teasing ginger bastard, who your friends insist is in to you, whilst he’s licking chocolate from his wrist surrounded by a collection of the kids he teaches, is not the most appropriate place to get sexually frustrated, yeah Bahorel was going to hell. 

 

“Is everything okay there Bahorel?” Eponine asked innocently, noticing Bahorel’s fixation on Feuilly licking chocolate off of his wrist.

 

“’M fine.” He squeaked, looking at his feet and not across the fire at Feuilly. 

 

“You look a little pale.” Cosettte interjected, as she smiled sweetly at him, biting the burnt marshmallow from her skewer. “Are you sure you wouldn’t benefit from an early night?” 

 

“I’m fine thank you.” Bahorel bit out, glaring at her as Melody turned her big brown eyes on him. “Sweetie, I’m okay, honestly.” 

 

“Daddy, you do look a little sick.” Melody pointed out helpfully, tilting her head. “And you always tell me to go to bed if I’m feeling sick. Mr F always tells us to lie down if we’re feeling poorly at school isn’t that right?”

 

Feuilly looked over at Bahorel, frowning at him across the frames. “Are you sure you’re okay ‘Rel?” 

 

Bahorel shook his head and stood up off the patch of grass where he had folded himself on to with Melody. “I think I might turn in a little early, will you be okay getting the boys ready if I go now?”

 

Feuilly was still watching him with concern but nodded, letting Bahorel know he was okay to go to their shared tent for the night. “Let me know if you’re still feeling bad later, I’ll bring you water when I come to bed. Night ‘Rel”

 

“Night.” Bahorel replied quietly, not knowing what to do with himself. He pressed a kiss to Melody’s head, and bid her goodnight, before making his way across the field back to where Feuilly had pitched their tent.

Bahorel scrubbed his hand through his hair and sighed, he was chickening out. Not being around Feuilly and his stupid ‘I’m going to lick chocolate off of my wrist’ everything was both a blessing and a curse, as now Bahorel was left alone with his thoughts. Would Grantaire and Enjolras play a trick of them being together so he would pull his finger out of his ass and talk to Feuilly about whatever their relationship could be? That is if Feuilly wanted to try something with him. If he and Grantaire weren’t together, which he guessed they weren’t if Grantaire was in bed with Enjolras right now. What would Melody think if she knew her dad had a massive crush on her favourite classroom assistant? Would she be happy? Would she find it weird if both Bahorel and Enjolras were dating other people at the same time, when it had just been the pair of them for so long? He had been so lost in his own head with thoughts about Feuilly, that when he actually went to remove his shirt and get ready for bed he wasn’t prepared for the squeak that followed him dropping his shirt to the floor.

 

“Wow if I knew I was going to get a show, I’d have come to bed sooner.” Quipped Feuilly, after regaining his composure in seeing Bahorel without his shirt. “Can I come back in with some music and start again?”

 

Bahorel huffed out a laugh, as he pulled on a looser shirt for him to sleep in. “Maybe next time Feu.” He shot back, slipping out of his jeans and into shorts to sleep in. “Unless you want to put on a show for me?”

 

Feuilly shot him a wink, before he disappeared through his partitioned section of the tent. “You’ll have to buy me dinner first before you get a show ‘Rel. I’m not going to give the goods away without getting dinner. What kind of girl do you take me for?”

 

“Believe me Feu, if you were a girl we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Bahorel said before he could stop himself. “I mean… objectively girls are lovely. But I’m gay, so…”

 

“Melodies mother?” Feuilly questioned without thinking, cringing at how insensitive he sounded.

 

Bahorel shrugged, looking at his hands rather than at Feuily. “Last ditch attempt at heteronormativity I guess. I mean the night after I slept with her, I got hammered at a party and went down on my RA for my building, and then I was like... well I’m strictly into dick now. Haven’t really looked back since. It’s like hey I’m gay, if you don’t like it, go fuck yourself.”

 

There was an agonising silence before Feuilly spoke again, leaving Bahorel alone with his thoughts again. “I mean, same.” Feuilly said quietly from beside him, causing Bahorel to raise his eyebrows. “I mean the gay thing not the epiphany from going down on your RA. I mean only you.” He laughed, before remembering how pale Bahorel looked earlier. “Oh is everything okay? I mean you disappeared really quickly earlier?”

 

Bahorel blinked, thrown a little by Feuilly’s concern. “I needed to get out of my head a little.” He explained. “I was texting Enjolras and apparently he and Grantaire are entirely closer than I think, it just threw me for a loop.”

 

“I thought they were just hanging out, like Enj keeping an eye on R whilst we’re away tonight?”Feuilly questioned, tilting his head in curiosity. It reminded Bahorel of a puppy, and he shouldn’t find it adorable, but he did. “Are they not getting along?”

 

Bahorel snorted and shook his head, grabbing his phone from by his pillow. “They’re definitely getting along.” He deadpanned, showing Feuilly the picture he received earlier, and trying to gage Feuilly’s reaction from the movement of his eyebrows.

 

“Wait? Weren’t you and Enjolras….?”

 

Bahorel barked out a laugh. “At one point?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Sure. But like we’ve been nothing but platonic for years now. Which I know is the complete opposite of what the school gossip would have you believe…”

 

Feuilly’s heart quickened a little in chest. “So you and Enjolras aren’t married then?”

 

“I don’t have a wedding ring on my finger Feuilly.” Bahorel said with a roll of his eyes. “Sex with Enjolras was one thing, we were both lonely. But I’ve not actually been with anyone since I got custody of Melody. I love Enjolras don’t get me wrong, but we couldn’t be together in a romantic capacity. We’re both too similar, and too different. Mel adores him, and he’ll always be part of her life.  I’m just so fucking lonely… I’m a little jealous that Enjolras and Grantaire got their shit together already. I was convinced that Enjolras and Grantaire would drag this out.”

 

Feuilly blinked slightly overwhelmed by Bahorel’s very frank confession. He too didn’t see Grantaire and Enjolras taking whatever their weird flirting had been in ikea to something more than what they were then. And now he and Bahorel were alone in the woods, in a tent together; Grantaire and Enjolras seemed far too gleeful about that yesterday. Then there was the sabotage with Bahorel’s tent, had they been orchestrating this all along? Feuilly took a glance at Bahorel, who had shrunk a little in on himself, something that made Feuilly’s heart sink in his chest.

 

“Hey…” he whispered, putting his arm around Bahorel, and letting the taller man lean into him. “You know you’re not alone right? Enjolras isn’t going to go anywhere. Even if he and Grantaire are somewhat of an item. Melody wouldn’t let him, and you know that. She’s shockingly persuasive, which I do believe it’s the fault of being raised by two lawyers.”

 

“Three if you count Courfeyrac.” Bahorel interrupted. “Her ‘uncle’ who’s partner is a Doctor.” He explained, to Feuilly’s confused face. “Enjolras’ best friends who kind of adopted me and Melody into the fold.”

 

“See what I mean, she’s already got so much love in her life and she’s only eight.” Feuilly said, his smile soft as the blush on his cheeks threatened to deepen. “I’m sure when you do find someone you want to introduce into her life she’ll accept anyone you pick.” He gave Bahorel another squeeze around his shoulders. “I mean, you’re her dad. She’s going to be accepting of anyone who makes you happy.”

 

Bahorel looked up and met Feuilly’s intense gaze, his heart hammering in his chest. Why did he suddenly feel so hopeful? “I may have found someone I think.” He admitted quietly, not looking at Feuilly now. “I mean I know Melody adores him, and he adores her. Which helps a lot.”

 

“Oh?” Feuilly prompted, his heart dropping at the idea that Bahorel was interested in someone. He didn’t know why he felt like this, it wasn’t as if Bahorel liked him like that right? Still he could be there if it would make Bahorel happy. He deserved to not be lonely anymore.

 

Bahorel nodded with a smile. “I mean he’s wonderful with kids, and really smart.” Bahorel continued, hoping Feuilly would take the hint a little. “He’s smaller than I am, which I don’t mind because I always love being the big spoon. He comes across really shy, but he’s totally the most sarcastic little shit I’ve ever met. And I really like him.”

 

“If you like him, why haven’t you made a move.” Feuilly said with a fake cheer, that he hoped Bahorel didn’t pick up on. Bahorel liking someone else shouldn’t have that effect right?.

 

“See Feu.” Bahorel said with a faux serious tone. “I’m painfully shy, when it comes to dating. I’ve been out of the game a while. And up until five minutes ago, he thought I was married.”

 

Feuilly’s mind was a whir. He thought he was married until about five minutes ago…. Wait was it? Oh _Ohhh…_ He looked to the smiling Bahorel who seemed closer to him than before. Feuilly’s gaze dropped to Bahorel’s lips. Did they always look that soft? He noticed that Bahorel was leaning into him too, watching his lips as if he intended to kiss him. He could feel Bahorel’s hot breath against his lips, his mind started to wander thinking about what kissing Bahorel would feel like.

 

“Daddy? I can’t sleep.” a little voice came from the front of the tent causing them to both break apart and Bahorel to shoot off in sound of his daughter. Feuilly on the other hand sat there, rubbing his fingers through his hair, praying his heartbeat would return to a normal rhythm, so that he could be a professional adult again. But his treacherous heart wouldn’t let him escape from the feeling of missing something that he handn’t realised he wanted so badly.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

Waking in a tent wasn’t something that Bahorel would ever get used to. He had managed to get Melody to go back to her own tent around one in the morning, and by the time he was blessedly alone with Feuilly the other man was snoring softly leaving Bahorel alone with his thoughts which was always a dangerous thing, at least according to Bahorel.

 

What he wasn’t quite prepared for was seeing the object of his affections in the morning. Ordinarily Feuilly had is hair down, and it got slightly more messy as the day went further on. But this morning he had tied his hair up into a messy bun. But that wasn’t what set Bahorel’s heart racing, although it did make Feuilly look even more adorable. This morning,  Feuilly was wearing glasses, thick framed black glasses, which made Bahorel’s throat go dry. 

 

“Mornin’ ‘rel.” Feuilly said, around a large yawn. “How did you sleep?”

 

 _I couldn’t because I was thinking about that almost kiss_ his mind supplied before he stopped himself. “Eh.” Bahorel said eventually, stretching his arms above his head.  “ Mel went back to bed eventually,  so I got about six hours or so. What about you?”

 

“It made a change not staying in a tent with Grantaire and his God awful snoring. So surprisingly I slept quite well.” Feuilly smiled, making Bahorel’s heart flutter treacherously again.

 

“That’s good to hear.” Bahorel assured him, pulling off his shirt to change and pretending to ignore the sharp intake of breath from Feuilly as he changed into something more weather appropriate. “What’s the plan of action today anyway?” he asked, the words muffled by the fabric of his shirt as he pulled it over his head. “You’re not dragging me on another nature hike are you?”

 

 _There’s somewhere where I’d like to drag you._ Feuilly’s mind helpfully supplied, still picturing Bahorel without his shirt. “We’ve got to get the children up and packed. We’ve got a games afternoon planned before we head back, I think Cosette and Eponine are in charge of that so we can just relax.”

 

“I don’t think we can relax if we’re still supervising the kids Feu.” Bahorel chuckled to himself, as he pulled his jeans on over the shorts he slept in. “But I’ll take your word for it anyway.” He offered a hand to Feuilly to pull him to his feet.                                                                                                                                                                                

Feuilly wasn’t expecting the force behind Bahorel’s tug to his feet and crashed into his chest. “Ooft.” He let out, not wanting to move away from Bahorel’s chest. “I don’t think we have to worry too much about it.” He added, his gaze shifting up to Bahorel’s lips, and feeling that intense feeling that distracted him last night.

 

“Are you alright there Feu?” Bahorel teased, not releasing Feuilly from his arms. “Your heart is beating like crazy. Shall I go help with breakfast and I’ll see you out there?” he offered, moving away from Feuilly at last.

 

Feuilly tried not to feel bereft from the loss of Bahorel’s body against his own. “Yeah.” He croaked out, turning his back on Bahorel, so that he could try and return his bodily response to normal. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

 

Feuilly sighed loudly as Bahorel zipped their tent closed collapsing onto his sleeping bag with a large thud. How could his feelings change so much in the last day? He had dealt with the crush for a while now, but what had changed? Oh yeah. _He’s available._ What would have happened if Melody hadn’t interrupted them last? Would they have kissed or would something else have gotten in the way. “Why am I so bad at this?” Feuilly mused out loud, as he fished his mobile out from the bottom of his bag.

 

 _Grantaire, how do you know if someone likes you?_ He sent out, not thinking Grantaire would reply straight away he put his phone back into his pocket, only have it to ring in his hand.

 

“If we’re talking about Bahorel, that man wants to bang you like a back gate in a storm.” Grantaire began as Feuilly answered the call, hearing a snickering in the background, no doubt from Enjolras. “Why are we still having this conversation Feuilly? You want to bang him, he wants to bang you. And also wants you to live a happy gay life with his unfairly adorable daughter.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you made the last thing up.” Feuilly huffed out, tuning out Enjolras’ continued snickering in the background. “Enjolras is still with you? Has he even left yes.”

 

“You’re deflecting!” Grantaire teased in a sing-song voice. “Yes Enjolras is still here, we’ve been having fun. He’s much more comfortable to cuddle with than you. Bahorel likes you, you like Bahorel. If you’re going to come back at me with Melody as a reason for you not to go with it, I will punch you.”

 

“We almost kissed last night.” Feuilly replied quietly, wincing as Grantaire screeched in his ear. “I didn’t realise I wanted it until we were interrupted.” He sighed, thinking of the almost kiss again. “What do I do R.” he whined. “I really like him.”

 

“Tell him!” Enjolras shouted, so that Feuilly could hear him, before Grantaire put Feuilly on speaker phone. “’Rel hasn’t had someone interested in him for him in years. He’s a romantic, but he’s forgotten how to want a relationship. If you want it to work, please tell him clearly you’re interested in him. Otherwise you’ll have to deal with a very angry eight-year-old, and also me.”

 

Feuilly nodded, even though he knew Grantaire and Enjolras couldn’t see him. “I don’t want to hurt him, or Melody. That’s the thing I least want to happen. I just don’t know if….”

 

“Feuilly.” Grantaire interrupted with a heavy sigh. “Enjolras and I talked before we decided to act on the feelings that we had. Granted it happened a little quicker than anticipated, but we made a point of talking. If you’re totally worried, I suggest you using that brain of yours and actually talking to Bahorel. He likes you, and you’d be pretty stupid not to see that. He was freaking out yesterday when Enjolras told him about us, even if it still is pretty fucking new. We weren’t going to hide it. And as soon as you’re back from your woodland adventure, Enjolras is going to tell Melody.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes you are.” Grantaire said with a firm conviction in his voice. “When I was younger I used to hate when parents kept things from me. She may only be eight, this may not go the way we want, but when she’s seventeen and already pissed off with Bahorel about something, she’ll appreciate the time when you were honest about being in a relationship with her teacher.”

 

“That’s-“ Feuilly began before Grantaire cut him off again.

 

“Feu I swear to god, if you don’t do something about this soon, I will personally sign Bahorel up for that hot single dad show on TLC that you like to pine over.” Grantaire growled down the phone at him. “Stop hiding in your tent and go man the fuck up about it.”

 

“Yes Dad.” Feuilly quipped, to Grantaire’s cackling back at him, before he hung up the phone. He busied himself with packing his things together and making sure that the tent was ready to be packed up as he and Bahorel would inevitably be left to dismantle their little tent village.

 

Sure enough, after breakfast Eponine and Cosette declared that the children would be playing a game of rounders for the next hour, giving Bahorel and Feuilly time to dismantle the tents, and load the bus up with all the bags that the children and adults had brought with them. Unfortunately for Feuilly, every time he tried to talk to Bahorel about their almost kiss last night, or his feelings the words died in his throat. Bahorel kept shooting him worried glances, but didn’t talk to him as they packed away everything and waited for the girls to finish their game of rounders.

 

It wasn’t until half an hour later, when Feuilly was counting children and adults back onto the bus, that Feuilly felt a small hand poke him in the arm. “Mr. F?” Melody asked, with her hand on her hip.

 

“Can it wait until we get on the bus Melody?” Feuilly asked her, counting another few children off of his list.

 

Melody shook her head, her brown curls flying around her dramatically. “Nope.”

 

Feuilly sighed, before handing his list to Eponine to carry on with as he moved away from the bus with Melody. “Okay.” He said softly, crouching down to her level. “What couldn’t wait until we got on the bus?”

 

Melody sighed dramatically, in a way that Feuilly was suddenly reminded of Enjolras when he was trying to summon the patience to deal with Bahorel. “When are you going to ask my Daddy out?” she said finally, leaving Feuilly completely speechless. “Because I know he likes you, Papa teases him about it all the time. So I don’t know why you haven’t asked him to be your boyfriend? Don’t you like him Mr. F?”

 

“Melody honey, its not that simple….” Feuilly began, before Melody shook her head at him again.

 

“But then my daddy will be happy.” She said quietly, glancing around to see if Bahorel was around. “He’s always pretending to be happy, but… please Mr. F. Do you not like my Daddy?”

 

Feuilly’s heart dropped. “Melody honey, I need to talk to your Daddy when we get back home. Just as your Papa will probably want to talk to you. Can you understand that sometimes grownups are more complicated?” Melody nodded. “But I do like your Daddy, I promise.”

 

 


	10. Rom-Com Cliche anyone?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Thank you for all your lovely comments. :)

Melody sighed heavily to herself, throwing her book bag onto her bed after school. It had been three long weeks since her camping trip with Mr F and her Daddy, and she was starting to get frustrated with them both. Mr R had returned to school, looking very happy and still hobbling about the classroom in his special ‘Mr. R is silly and broke his foot so has to wear this special boot’ boot, which looked a little out of place with his trousers and smart shoes combination.

 

Three weeks since she had asked Mr. F if he was going to ask her Daddy out, and nothing. She had had enough of both her Daddy and her Papa. She knew something was going on with her Papa and Mr. R, because why else would her Papa volunteer to pick her up after school every day this week and blush at Mr. R, when he walked her out of the classroom and to their car. Sometimes being eight-years-old and surrounded by silly adults who don’t talk to each other, really sucked.

 

Which is why Melody decided to take matters into her own hands, and call a sensible grown up, or failing that Uncle Courfeyrac. She pressed the button and waited for the call to connect.

 

“Hello!” a chirpy voice greeted, which definitely sounded like Courfeyrac. “Which lovely person am I speaking to, if its Enjolras, you’re an idiot. If its Bahorel, you’re a bigger idiot….”

 

“Hi Uncle Courf.” Melody laughed, trying to think about why he would call both of her father’s idiots.

 

“Hello Mels!” Courfeyrac parroted back at her, causing the girl to giggle. “How can I help you this fine Thursday evening? Is everything okay?”

 

“Is Uncle Ferre home?”

 

“Should I be offended that you don’t want to talk to your old Uncle Courfeyrac?” Courfeyrac whined, trying to sound offended. “I’m sorry honey, he’s working. Is there anything I can help you with? Is something wrong?” He was starting to worry a little, and it was getting a little worse the longer it took Melody to answer him.

 

Melody hesitated, biting her lip. “Its really something for a proper grown up. Daddy and Papa are being stupid. And I know Uncle Ferre will sort it out.”

 

Courfeyrac laughed, the knot that had formed in his stomach easing a little. “Sweetheart, I’m a ‘proper grown up’.” Melody could hear the air quotes in his voice. “Is this something to do with the fact that both your fathers have massive crushes on your teachers, and neither of them are doing anything about it?”

 

Melody sighed, as dramatically as she could. “Could I come stay with you and Uncle Ferre please?” She whined, trying to guilt her uncle into letting her stay with them all weekend. “You can pick me up from School and we can watch Disney movies and bake cookies and I don’t have to talk to Daddy or Papa because they’re annoying me.”

 

“You know you have to ask your Dad and Papa if you can stay with Uncle Ferre and I Mels.” Courfeyrac replied, not wanting to discourage his surrogate niece from spending time with her ‘favourite uncles’. “And I don’t know if I’m on the list to pick you up from school-“

 

“Yes you are.” Melody interrupted, cutting Courfeyrac off. “I remember from when Daddy was sick, and Papa was away in London. I stayed with you for a week, so you and Uncle Ferre had to pick me up. So I know you’ll be fine to pick me up tomorrow.”

 

Courfeyrac pinched the bridge of his nose before answering her again, sometimes Melody really took after Enjolras. “I’m not going to even bother to say maybe your Daddy won’t agree to you staying away this weekend. I’ll call him anyway, because you’re way too young to sneak behind your Daddy’s back Mels. Save that for when you’re sixteen okay?” he laughed. “I’ve got to go and get your Uncle Ferre from work, so I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Love you Melly!”

 

“Love you too Uncle Courfeyrac!” Melody sang back at him, before hanging up the phone. That was one less thing that she had to worry about this weekend. She just had to get through school tomorrow.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Enjolras sighed as he checked his phone for the third time this morning waiting for Melody to put her shoes on, so that they could leave for school. Grantaire had texted him to say that he was looking forward to seeing him this morning. How could he refuse his boyfriend that? It still made him smile to think of Grantaire as his boyfriend, even though it was still very new. Enjolras was happy, and that was all because of Grantaire. Confessing his feelings to Grantaire was easy, admitting to Melody that he was dating her teacher? That was a completely different matter.

 

“Come on Melody!” He shouted up the stairs, not worrying about waking Bahorel up, it would be his own fault for not being up already. “We have to leave for school, and I have to drop your sleep over things at Uncle Courfeyrac’s before school.”

 

“We don’t have to be at school for another fourty-five minutes Papa!” Melody replied with a dramatic sigh, appearing at the top of the stairs. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush!” She added, skipping down the stairs to join him. “I’m sure Mr. R would forgive us if we were a little late. He likes you.”

 

Enjolras took her coat down from the coat rack and handed it to her. “Mr. R would still be cross at us if we were late this morning. I know he wouldn’t tell you off, but he’ll definitely tell me off.”

 

“You’d enjoy it if he did though!” Bahorel called from his room, well at least Enjolras knew he wasn’t going to be late for work himself, the comment about Grantaire he could live without.

 

“Ignore your Daddy Mels.” Enjolras shouted up the stairs, towards Bahorel who dragged himself to the landing to say goodbye to Melody. “He’s just grumpy that you’re spending the weekend with your Uncles.”

 

Bahorel nodded solemnly and clenched his chest in faux betrayal. “I can’t believe you’d rather spend your weekend with Courfeyrac than me!” he sniffed, as Melody ran back up the stairs to hug him.

 

“Uncle Courfeyrac is way more fun than you.” Melody teased, as she hugged her father. “He lets me stay up late and tells me stories about Papa. About how he was when he was little like me.”

 

“I’m going to have a word with Courfeyrac when I get to work.” Enjolras groaned, as he waited for Melody to join him back at the foot of the stairs. “C’mon munchkin, we now have half an hour to get to school. And I want to talk to you before we get there. Say goodbye to Daddy and You’ll see him Sunday.”

 

“Bye Daddy!” She parroted, kissing Bahorel on the cheek and hugging him again. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

 

“See you later princess.” Bahorel replied, giving her a quick squeeze. “Behave for Uncle Courf!”

 

“I always behave!” Melody returned with a grin and jogging down the stairs to Enjolras. “I’m a good girl!”

 

Enjolras chuckled as he guided her outside and to the car. He promised himself that he would tell Melody this morning about his relationship with Grantaire, so that she had a chance to process it with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, before returning home. They had talked it over when Melody was asleep, and they agreed that he had taken long enough to tell her. Grantaire was prepared to field questions from her during the day at school, and then Courfeyrac would pick her up after school. He and Grantaire were spending tomorrow together, and they were trying to find a way to get Bahorel and Feuilly alone together again after their camping trip. It was going to be a busy weekend.

 

“Are we going to leave now?” Melody asked him, her voice cutting through the thoughts firing through his mind. “We’ve only got twenty minutes now papa!”

 

Sometimes Enjolras hated that Melody had definitely inherited some of his personality traits. “Have you got your seatbelt on?”

 

“Yes Papa.” She replied sticking out her tongue out at him in the rear view mirror.

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he pulled out of their drive, and started their journey to school. They had picked their current house so that it was only a short drive to the school, and the plan was to move when she started secondary school. That was the plan he and Bahorel had, although would that be different if he and Grantaire were still together three years from now? How would that pan out? Enjolras shook his head, drifting into his own thoughts whilst operating a car wasn’t exactly the best place to have a crisis.

 

“Mels honey.” He began, as the early morning traffic meant that they were stuck in their current position for at least the next five minutes. “I have something that I need to talk about with you.”

 

“Is it that you’re dating Mr. R?” She asked, offering Enjolras a cheeky grin. “I heard you talking to Daddy about it last night when I got myself a drink of water. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

 

Enjolras scoffed, shaking his head again. “Well I wanted to be the one to tell you myself sweetheart, but yes. I’ve been dating Mr. R for a few weeks now. We wanted to wait a little before telling you, but yeah.” He blushed a little, thinking about Grantaire. “I’m dating Mr. R.”

“Awesome!” Melody returned, her smile wide. “I’m glad because Mr. R is awesome. And you’re awesome too! So it’s double awesome!” She looked a little sheepish as she tucked her curly hair behind her ears. “I have one question though Papa.”

 

Enjolras was pleasantly surprised by her reaction, so couldn’t begrudge her a question. “Of course darling. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Does Mr. R make you happy?”

 

This time Enjolras couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on his face. “He does make me happy.” He answered, his face flushed. “I hope I make him happy too.”

 

“Oh you do!” Melody chirped excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Mr. F tells him to stop smiling like an idiot all the time. He likes you. I know Mr. F likes you too. I hope he likes Daddy, because that would be cool. Then you and Daddy can be happy! And so can Mr. R and Mr. F!”

 

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself Melody.” Enjolras laughed, as he pulled into the school car park. “We don’t know about Feuilly and your Daddy yet. That may never happen.”

 

“But I know Mr F likes Daddy!” Melody protested as she gathered her things together, and hopped out of the now stationary vehicle. “I told him to ask Daddy out weeks ago, because they were looking like Uncle Courfeyrac looks when Uncle Combeferre is away, and I told him to ask Daddy out. And he still hasn’t. You don’t see how sad Daddy looks when we have to leave Mr. F when he picks me up. I’m fed up of it.”

 

“So that’s why you’re staying with Uncle Combeferre and Uncle Courfeyrac this weekend.” Enjolras laughed, leading her into the building, and taking her towards Grantaire’s classroom. “I had wondered why you didn’t want to spend time with us this weekend.”

 

“Uncle Courfeyrac is fun!” Melody pouted, as she pulled her coat open, her classroom coming into view. “But Daddy is annoying me and I wanted to have fun.” She pulled away from Enjolras as she spotted her friends going into the classroom. “Bye papa!” she called, pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving him to Grantaire’s mercy as the other man appeared in the hallway as Melody left.

 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Grantaire greeted, as he walked towards Enjolras. “Do you come here often?” he grinned as Enjolras moved closer. He let out a faint squeak in surprise as Enjolras pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “What’s that for Enj?”

 

“Can’t I kiss my boyfriend hello?” Enjolras pressed another kiss to Grantaire’s lips. “Unless the school has a problem with two guys kiss-“

 

“Its not that.” Grantaire said, pulling away a little. “I didn’t want Melody to find out from us kissing in the hallway, we owe her better than that.”

 

“Oh I told her on the way to school.” Enjolras explained, going in for another kiss only to be rebuffed by Grantaire. He tried not to whine in protest.

 

“Couldn’t you have told me that before you attacked me outside my classroom?” Grantaire huffed, pulling Enjolras in for another kiss. “I better go, I’ve got minds to mould and Feu is off today. I’ll see you when you pick Melody up?”

 

“Courfeyrac is getting her tonight.” Enjolras returned, pressing his lips to Grantaires again. “But call me after you’ve finished school. I owe you a date!”

 

“A date huh?” Grantaire hummed, leaning against the frame of his classroom door, not wanting Enjolras to leave quite yet.  “What would that date entail Enj? You’ll have to explain it in detail.”

 

“Will you two please stop flirting?” Feuilly groaned, as he appeared beside Grantaire in the corridor. “I do hope you’ll manage to survive without me if I’m covering Jehan’s class for today whilst he’s ill. I’d hate for your flirting to corrupt the kids any further.” Feuilly pushed past them both in a grumpy huff, the books in his arms knocking Enjolras over into Grantaire’s embrace. “I guess I’ll see you later, R.” he called as an afterthought pushing the door to Jehan’s classroom open with his elbow. “Bye Enjolras.”

 

“Who pissed in his cheerios this morning?” Enjolras whispered to Grantaire who tried to subtly flip Feuilly off, without being seen by the children in his classroom.

 

Grantaire shrugged, flipping Feuilly off again for good measure. “It’s probably because he’s too chicken shit to ask Bahorel out, even though I know Melody told him to on the class trip.” He paused as Enjolras seemed to choke on air. “Her exact words to him were “When are you going to ask my daddy out?” if I remember rightly. At least that’s what Feu said anyway. God knows that man needs to get…” he dropped his voice to a whisper. “a good fucking.”

 

Enjolras snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, Bahorel isn’t going do anything about it either. Sometimes I think we should lock them in a cupboard together. I think that’s literally only the way that something is going to happen with them.” Grantaire hummed in thought, his mind wandering as he tried to think of a way for himself and Enjolras to orchestrate something like that. “I mean it would be a complete ‘Rom-Com’ cliché wouldn’t it?” Enjolras continued. “But can you see anything else working? They’re both completely ridiculous.”

 

“I’m just glad we managed to be adult about this.” Grantaire pointed between them, pressing his lips to Enjolras’ cheek. “Even if it did take you two weeks longer to tell your daughter than I would have liked. Hey Enj, do you think Baz would go on a blind date if you set him up?”

 

“I thought the idea was to get Bahorel and Feuilly together, babe?”

 

Grantaire cooed, as Enjolras flushed at the drop of a nickname. “Babe?” he teased, causing Enjolras to more red. “To answer your question babe.” He grinned. “We set ‘rel and Feu on a blind date with each other. So that they can’t run away from each other. Melody is away for the weekend, so ‘rel doesn’t have to worry about getting back for a babysitter as you’re spending the weekend with me.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Obviously.” Grantaire dismissed, bouncing a little on his toes from the excitement of scheming. “This is the best idea, then Feuilly and Bahorel will confess that they want to be all domestic and sickeningly adorable. Feuilly will finally get laid, and we don’t have to deal with all the pining.”

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “’Taire it’s nearly nine. Can you tell me quickly how you’re going to execute this plan so you can get to work, and I can too?” Enjolras asked, as Grantaire’s grin widened. “Please.”

 

“Just tell Bahorel that he has a blind date tomorrow, and I’ll sort everything else out.” Grantaire assured him, patting his arm and pushing him towards the exit of the school. “Go be all sexy and lawyerly, and I’ll see you tonight. I don’t care what you tell Bahorel and how you get him to the ‘date’ with the mopey ginger, but I’ll fix this.” He stole another quick kiss from Enjolras, before turning back to his classroom. “See you at four, babe!”

 

Enjolras laughed as he left the school, pulling his phone from his pocket and wrote a quick message to Bahorel.

 

**_I hope you’re out of bed and at work. Omw and tell Courf I’ll bring the coffee & bfast. I’m setting you up with someone tomorrow night. Sick of you moping about Feuilly. I’m happy, and you should be too. Be glad I’m not Courf as I’d just say you need to get laid. But I think your happiness is more important than sex. See you in a bit x_ **

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
